The Phoenix Chronicles: Goblet of Fire
by Bruq
Summary: The only interesting thing about me is that I happen to lead an unusual life. Perhaps if I started this manifesto by telling you that I have the power to control the very air of which you breathe you would understand why my life is such a commodity.
1. Introductions

**The Phoenix Chronicles: The Goblet of Fire  
>Chapter 1: Introductions<strong>

My name is Harry Phoenix and while I can't think of any particular reason as to why you should care as to who I am or that I exist, I am nonetheless writing this to save the last bits of sanity I have left and to miraculously convince myself that my life has purpose beyond what I've been told to believe, but I'm getting ahead of myself. My "destiny" isn't where my story begins, though it does set much of it into motion. Again, I'm getting ahead of myself but you'll understand my ramblings all in good time.

I'm sixteen years old and in the short amount of time I've lived, I haven't accomplished anything that I would feel proud of if I were to die the next day. I don't have too many hobbies and even less friends. The only really interesting thing about me is that I happen to lead an unusual life. By all means, I'm not suggesting that leading a "normal" life is uninteresting, I am merely stating that the life I possess is not one you'd come across as easily as the letter 'e'. For one thing, I'm a wizard, though in that particular aspect I'm not alone. Perhaps if I started this manifesto by telling you that I have the power to control the very air of which you breathe, you would understand why my life is such a commodity.

You see, I'm what my mentor calls an Elemental, or a being specially attuned with one or more of the classical elements: earth, air, fire, or water. What this definition plucked straight from a six hundred year old man's mouth means is that with varying degrees of thought and will (sometimes a word or two is required), my mind can harness the ability to create fires and winds of ranging strengths, force rivers to flood, or piece together bits of sand to form the stone from which they originated. I'm not restricted to these particular acts of elemental magic but I'm not invincible. For example, I can't force the oxygen molecules in water to become so numerous that, in essence, I'm able to breathe underwater; a fact that I'm painfully aware of from personal experience.

Other than being a wizard and Elemental, I was the only apprentice in history to Nicolas Flamel. You thought I was kidding when I said a six hundred year old man right? In your defense, he was closer to seven hundred but when you're that old, who's counting? Anyways, I'm sure you've heard of him or rather, his legend. Most people believe that he never succeeded in his quest to create the Philosopher's Stone and gain immortality. Well, if you've believed everything I've told you up to this point, I wouldn't start questioning the validity of my statements now; no matter how outrageous. So like I was saying, Flamel was the mentor I mentioned earlier and until recently, he was the one who instructed me in all the mystical ways that dazzle the mind.

The very last thing you should know about me is that I'm a twin to a very famous wizard. The reason he's famous is a bit of a joke but not too many people know the actuality of the events that led to his fame and my death. You see, my true name is Harry Potter but to the world, I'm just the dead brother of the Boy Who Lived. As to not confuse you with a load of information all at once, I have to back track this story all the way to my birth in Godric's Hollow.

My brother and I were born into a time where a homicidal maniac who fashioned himself Lord Voldemort ran amok throughout the wizarding world gathering followers called Death Eaters. It was Voldemort's belief that those who were not wizards (Muggles) or wizards born into Muggle families (Muggleborns) were a waste of life and sought their destruction. His followers joined the ranks with either the same belief of Muggles or out of fear that Voldemort would gain control of the wizarding world and murder those who opposed his cause. By showing loyal service, they believed they were granting themselves salvation in a new world order where Voldemort occupied the throne.

Voldemort had set out to kill all the enemies who had defied him in an attempt to show the wizarding world that he was not to be crossed. High on his list of opponents was Lily and James Potter, who had battled the Dark Lord on three separate occasions and lived to tell the tale. This made them a dangerous liability so Voldemort attacked the Potter home. He struck when James Potter was working at the ministry and had some of his Death Eaters stage an assault on the public as a diversion. Lily Potter was home with her twin sons when Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow.

No one is fully sure what happened after Voldemort disarmed Lily but to the wizarding world's knowledge, I was killed that night and Henry defeated the Dark Lord by deflecting the curse upon its caster, though to your knowledge I'm not dead. After all, how many dead guys do you know that can tell a story of a life that could've happened but never did because it was extinguished fifteen years earlier? My guess would be not many but that just shows you how much of an amazing cover-up James and Lily Potter pulled the night they faked my death to abandon me. 'Cause really, who needs two sons when they can have the one who brought them fame and fortune? If you can't sense my sarcasm, I fear for your sensibility.

Because I was asked by my ancient mentor to remove all emotional attachments from my story, I've had to draft several versions of this narrative, which only proves my unreliability as a narrator. So please, forgive me for resorting to such tactics as this story holds a lot of anger that I've tried to tone down but haven't always been successful in doing. I've tried to keep the tone as un-angsty as I can, but given the background of this manuscript, sometimes it's needed. And with that said, let's move forward with my tale.

Once James and Lily Potter came to the realization that their oldest son had defeated the wizard who had plagued the world for thirteen years with hideous murders and senseless terrorism, they felt they could no longer care for their youngest son who lay in a coma after the attack. They believed that in raising the Boy Who Lived, the responsibility would be so great that caring for two children would be impossible. So what are these perfect parents to do with an extra child to spare? Why, send him to live with distant relatives and tell the world he died of course!

I was sent to live with my horrible Muggle family who despised magic but didn't have any choice but to take me in as, god forbid, what would the neighbors think if they didn't? As I was left on their doorstep with a letter explaining the tragic circumstances, James and Lily played the grieving parents of the last victim of the Dark Lord. Time moved on and before you knew it, six years had passed. Though my relatives were decent enough towards me to not warrant Child Protective Services a visit, they nonetheless regarded my existence with contempt and scorn. So, being the generous people that they were, my family decided to send me away to a foreign boarding school rather than deal with my displays of accidental magic, which was completely fine with me. At the time, I had no idea I was a wizard and the accidental magic I spawned was referred to as "funny business" or "freakish tricks", but soon came the time for my true enlightenment.

The majority of my time spent at the school was truly an isolating experience. Because most of the students already spoke French, I was at a disadvantage to make friends because of the language barrier. I had to take beginner's classes which kept me in separate classes so I rarely spent any time with children my own age. Because I was so alone, I started to notice the odd things that would happen around me; my hair growing back overnight after a haircut, lights turning on after I wished to not be in the dark of my room anymore, the radishes I was served for lunch disappearing when I refused to eat them. These things brought me to the conclusion that I wasn't like other people. I started to practice and eventually learned how to make these things happen at will instead of by accident. With all the time I had spent by myself, the school officials had labeled me as anti-social with a possible personality disorder and wanted to send me to a school that specialized in the psychiatric needs of its students.

Of course I didn't fully understand what this meant being a child and all, but I didn't like the sound of it or the looks the teachers would give me when they thought I wasn't looking. I knew by the tone of their voices that the place they wanted to send me was bad news so I wanted no part of it. I waited one night for everyone to go to sleep before I sneaked out of the school and into the inner city of Paris. For a few weeks, I lived in the park and down by the food market, where I would make myself invisible and steal the things that I needed to survive. I thought I had a pretty decent system going until I got caught.

I had been in a store trying to decide if I wanted the black hooded sweatshirt or the long sleeved green jacket. I eventually stopped trying to decide between the two and grabbed them both.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice came was so close from behind me that I jumped. When I turned around, I saw an old man dressed in a weird looking trench coat. I was certain that I had been unseen so I waited to make sure he was talking to me, wondering how in the world he could see me.

"I can see you." Well thanks for clearing that up.

As soon as those words left his mouth, I ran out of the store and sought refuge in the park. There was an old building that had been used for maintenance supplies but was now abandoned. I had cleaned it up a bit and had taken the things I needed to make a comfortable living. It got cold out there from time to time but it was nothing a few extra blankets couldn't handle. Once I made it inside my humble abode, I heard the voice again.

"You didn't have to run you know." Again, I jumped. I looked in shock at the man in the funny looking trench coat sitting on a chair I borrowed from the cafe down the block and silently questioned how someone so old could have beaten me here and furthermore, how did he even know where I was running to?

"I've been watching you for quite some time young man," he said.

"W-who are y-you?" I stammered out, frightened that I was in trouble for stealing.

"I'm a friend," he replied kindly with a smile.

"Wha-what do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"I don't need anyone's help!" I said indignantly, as I crossed my arms.

I stared him down until he got up from where he had been sitting and patted me on the shoulder before he reassured me that if I ever needed help, that I could go to him. As he left, I saw a paper card fall on the cafe chair like a feather dropping from the sky. When I looked behind me, the man was gone. I went through the door and couldn't see him anywhere. I ran back into the abandoned building and barricaded the door as best as I could, positive that I had just seen a ghost. Of course a blocked door wouldn't help against a ghost attack but try telling that to a scared seven years-old.

I stayed in my little fortress until the next day. I had looked at the card, which read what I assumed to be the man's name and a Paris address but I dismissed it as something the wind must have blown in because ghosts didn't leave business cards with people they haunted. I went on my day-to-day business, keeping my eyes out for any more trouble that wanted to come my way.

Eventually I settled back into my routine before I saw the man again. He was walking around in the park with a women who was just as old as he was. By this time, the weather had gotten colder so not too many people bothered to walk around in the park. I ran back to my safe haven and started gathering up the things I could carry as I planned on getting as far away from this park as necessary. I had dismissed the man as a one-time fear induced hallucination but now that he was back and he had brought company, this meant it wasn't part of my overactive imagination and real trouble had found me. Before I made it out the door, I heard the woman talking.

"No Nicolas, you can't just apparate in there! You'll scare that poor boy! Just knock on the door, go on! But not too loud."

I had been listening with my ear up against the door and let me tell you, it's not a very pleasant experience to have someone knock while you're like that. I bolted away from the door with a groan.

"Hello? Young man? My name is Mrs. Flamel. You're not in any trouble. Can you please open the door?"

I hesitated but she sounded nice enough so I opened it just enough to stick my face out, figuring the sooner I answered, the sooner they'd leave.

"Oh, my husband didn't tell me what a handsome young man you were!" She was wearing a similar looking trench coat that the man had on, only hers was white instead of gray. Her hair was as white as her coat and tied into a loose bun at the back of her head. She reminded me of one of the neighbors the Dursleys used to send me to while they went to run errands. The man was standing next to her, looking the same as he did the first day I saw him except now he wore a black cap on his head. I remember thinking to myself that these were probably the oldest people I had ever seen yet they acted much younger and less fragile than the other elderly people I usually saw.

"Hello again," the man said with that same friendly smile. I couldn't sense anything off about them so I opened the door a little wider. "How are you doing?"

"Fine thanks."

"No need to be frightened dear. We mean you no harm," Mrs. Flamel said.

"What do you want?" I asked suspiciously.

"To let you know that you aren't alone," she responded. "What's your name?"

"Harry," I said slowly, still a little suspicious. "And what do you mean I'm not alone?"

"We know you can make things happen because we're just like you."

And there you have it. That's how the wonderful world of magic was introduced to me. Obviously the conversation didn't stop there but why bother with the formalities. I'm sure you'd rather get to the juicy details of my life after this revelation. I went to live with the Flamels as they couldn't sleep well with the fact that "the poor dear" was out by himself in the cold. I told them what happened with the Dursleys and Mr. Flamel promised to go see them to inquire about my custody.

Once he got there, the Dursleys were quite upset about the amount of time it took for him to come take Harry away for his training. They politely told him that regardless of what they agreed to when they took me in, they wouldn't be a part of any more freakish-ness and good riddance! As he had no idea what the Dursleys were complaining about, Mr. Flamel continued to interrogate them for as much information as he could before he placed a memory charm on my wretched Muggle family to make them believe that I had run away from the house directly. They thought they would tell the neighbors I was being sent to a lovely foreign school instead of reporting me as missing. Then they wouldn't be in trouble for the neglect they had treated me with and no one would ever be looking for me. When he came back to Paris, Mr. Flamel had quite the story that changed my life forever.

The Dursleys reported that the morning they found me on their door step, they received a letter explaining that the Potters had been killed by Lord Voldemort and that I was the only surviving member of the family. It explained that I would be retrieved when it was safe for me to begin my training with Albus Dumbledore as Voldemort wasn't truly vanquished. From Mr. Flamel's interpretation of these events, Dumbledore and the Potters placed me here but we didn't know the exact reason. After all, if they could keep my brother, why not me too? And why tell people I was dead? None of it made any sense and all we could do was speculate. We couldn't ask because then that would put me in the position to be sent back to the Dursleys. I was then given to options: either confront the family that turned me away or stay with the Flamels.

I was hurt that my family had abandoned me while keeping my brother, as if saying that I wasn't good enough because I wasn't the Boy Who Lived. I eventually grew angry with them but that wasn't the reason I stayed with the Flamels. It was because for the first time in my life, I felt safe and cared for. They became the family that I never knew I had missed until I found one.

Meanwhile, I was entering my sixth year at the Academy. Over the years, I excelled in my magical studies and I thought that everything would fall into place. I wasn't that lucky. Less than six years after I created a family, it was torn apart when Mrs. Flamel died. Two years later, her husband followed her and I was left with the greatest amount of anger I have ever felt for someone and I placed the blame on Dumbledore.


	2. The Portkey

**Chapter 2: The Portkey**

There are several things in the world that annoy me (waiting in lines is killer, I swear...) and being woken up by chirping birds is near the top of the list. Now while I can enjoy their musical selections like any other person, there's just something about being dragged from something I enjoy for more to listen to them that really irks me. This particular day though, I'd take the feathered opera over the strange nightmare that jerked me awake. Because birds and other external forces come from the physical world, they can be controlled and countered to keep from having fallen prey to their influence. Nightmares are different though. They take place in your mind where only your fears and frustrations can manifest themselves as the imagined horrors that keep you from maintaining mental wellbeing; not to mention a good night's sleep.

When I sat up in bed, I was breathing fast and dripping with sweat. Whatever had me gripped in fear, I couldn't remember. Only the faint images of a large snake and a pudgy man with beady eyes lingered in my mind. My heart was thumping wildly and I could swear that if I listened closely, I'd hear its beat outside my chest. I fell back onto my pillows and lay there until my breathing evened and my heart slowed. Once it did, I glanced at the alarm clock beside my bed. The hour it read was so ugly, I yanked the blankets off me and stood up angrily. I knew that I wasn't going back to sleep, not with the odd feelings that accompanied the dream.

I walked over to the balcony doors and opened them with more force than was necessary. I was stilled covered in a thin film of sweat so when I stepped out onto the cold cement, the cool air that met my bare skin made me shiver momentarily (and no, I don't sleep naked I'll have you know. I sleep with pajama pants on thank you very much.) Despite the cool air, I walked over to the railing, leaned against it and looked down five stories. People were moving about on the streets, illuminated by the lamps; most likely heading home from the pub.

Though I couldn't remember anything other than the snake and beady eyed man, I knew there was a lot missing to have caused me to bolt awake in fear. As I'm not particularly afraid of snakes unless they want to kill me, I knew it wasn't the cause of my fear and the man didn't seem to pose any kind of threat that I could perceive. He held an air of familiarity around him that confused me as I couldn't recall ever having met the man. I shook my hair out of my eyes, trying to convince myself that I could shake away the strange feelings just as easily.

Dismissing the dream for the time being I continued to watch the people below me, letting my mind wander to the day ahead of me for a minute more before a large eagle owl swooped into my view. It landed on the railing next to me and it was then that I noticed the thick envelope attached to its leg. I recognized the bird but didn't move to remove the letter as this particular owl has a nasty habit of biting those who have the audacity of making it wait for more than two seconds. Seeing the owl clicking its beak did nothing to improve my apprehension about the mood of the owl. Figuring I better just get this over with, I started to untie the letter from it's leg as the owl began to fidget in annoyance. As expected, once the letter was removed, the owl flew off with a chunk of my skin. Of course I'm exaggerating when I say 'chunk' but this bite was more painful than any I had ever received from it. I held my hand my to pajama bottoms to stem the blood flow and wondered what couldn't wait until a more sane owl was back from hunting. Deciding that I wanted to know what warranted the skin removal of my knuckle, I ripped open the envelope and pulled the parchment out.

**Good morning Harry,**

**I'm sorry about the bite you've surely sustained but this couldn't wait. I was just informed that the press has caught wind that the owner of EBI will be attending the World Cup. I've restrained them to outside the top box but they will most likely do what they can to get in. I'm only warning you so that you aren't surprised with the extra security. If you prepare a statement about your need for privacy I can happily deliver it in a delightfully red envelope.**

**See you soon,**

**Perry**

I groaned once I was finished reading the letter as I had an even longer day ahead of me that I knew was going to suck on so many levels. I know you're confused so allow me to indulge you.

When I turned thirteen, Mr. Flamel thought it would be beneficial if I began to study alchemy. He said that since Elementals already have an affinity for the elements, alchemy is easier to study, which is how he came to create the sorcerer's stone. With that explanation, he gave me various texts to translate and experiment with. My first major discovery came with the transmutation of lead into iron. I eventually combined the things I learned from alchemy with my Elemental powers. I began to form combinations of the elements and a range of spells to yield extremely interesting results. In this case, I used levitation and banishing spells to bind the elements into the materials usually reserved for broom cores. Though not always successful, I called this first prototype the Shadowspeare. It harnessed the essence of all four elements which made the bond formed between the spells and elements extremely dangerous and unstable for replication so only one of them is in existence and in my possession.

The experimentations after the Shadowspeare focused on reigning in one element into broom cores. I started with fire as that's the easiest for me to control and it took nearly four months to make the cores stable enough for replication and mass production. Because the cores are very unstable if broken or damaged in any way, I had to place them inside titanium plated shells reinforced by anti-breakage spells weaved into the metal and the wood that encased the shell. Over the wood is a highly complex coating of anti-breakage spells and containment charms, which makes the brooms resistant to damage. If, by an extremely rare chance, a core were to break, the explosion it created would be equal to one half of the force of an atomic bomb detonation. I know this from experience though I had been manipulating the air molecules in my testing site to form a bubble around the explosion to keep it isolated within the shield. The entire process for making the brooms took nearly a year and once they were ready for the market, I dubbed my fun little experiment the Firebolt.

Because the binding spells that surround the wood and the core were so thick, it kept my competitors from stripping the brooms and extracting the cores from the cases. This, of course, created quite the controversy among the wizarding world as not only was the process of production kept secret but so was my identity. I was granted a business license by the French Minister of Magic, Perry Bodin, in exchange for the second edition of every broom I created under the company Elemental Brooms, Inc. As Minister Bodin is a good friend of Mr. Flamel's, he granted me citizenship to France and was able to get my acceptance to the Academy with no questions asked. He's fully aware of my true identity and works hard to maintain the secrecy of my company. Though it's not always easy, Minister Bodin has done a great job of keeping the press from discovering the identity of the head of EBI. The reasons for the secrecy shouldn't be that hard to figure out but I'll put it in simple terms: If the world were to discover that I was the creator of the brooms, the media I'd receive would more than likely blow my cover as Harry Phoenix and as much as I want the Potters to be exposed for the selfish arses they are, I'd rather not have anything to do with them.

Anyways, as I'm really the only one who can create the brooms it's pretty much a one man show and orders have to be placed in advance. I'm currently lining up a Special Edition Firebolt, the Emberbolt, that uses more energy of the element and only fifty are set to be produced which will coincide with the release of the Thunderbolt, which harnesses the element of air. Hopefully this has brought you up to speed because I can only shower for so long...

I stepped out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam with a towel around my waist and my hair spiking in all directions, despite that it was wet. I walked over to my closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black hooded sweatshirt. I've been told that the complexity of my wardrobe is absolutely stunning but I'd rather keeps things simple by owning the least amount of different articles possible which is the reason I own only jeans and t-shirts. Sure I have sweatshirts and button down long sleeves but other than those, I don't stray too far in my choices. Pulling on my selections, I used the towel to dry my hair a bit more before running my fingers through the strands. Satisfied that my hair was mussed enough, I exited my room and walked down the hallway of my apartment to the stairs. Technically, it's called a penthouse but really, who pays attention to technicalities? Another thing I'd take note of mentioning is that this apartment is mine, meaning that I live alone. This past summer Nic had decided that I was old enough to live by myself so I found an apartment in the first arondissement. That's neighborhood to those of you who are unfamiliar with Paris.

Anyways, I descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, the lights snapped on automatically overhead. Call me a Muggle if you must, but I'd rather have light that came from a lamp than from a candle. Perhaps it's because of the years that I spent in the Muggle world but when it comes to technology and things of the like, I take a more modern approach than other wizards. I pulled a bowl from the cupboard and poured myself some cereal. Like my clothing, I like to keep the foods I eat simple which is why I'd choose cold cereal over pancakes and eggs any day. It's not that I don't like those things, it's just that I prefer not to have them as the first thing I consume in a day. I finished my cereal and cleared my dishes from the table before heading towards the study. My apartment was larger than the others this building housed, mainly because it was on the top two floors but also because of the enlargement charms that were on many of the rooms. The study had been one of the rooms that was enlarged, several times in fact. In the corner on a long desk stood my computer. You can call me a Muggle all day if you feel the need.

Last week I had been shopping in a bookstore and came across a book titled _Ancient Magic: Magic from Before the Dawn of Time?_ From the skimming I had done in the store, the book explained how the very first wizards came to be and even talked about spells that involved the elements. Of course I figured it warranted further attention and there wasn't any better time to do so than now. By the time I was halfway through the book, the sun had risen significantly, changing the sky from inky black to pinkish orange. I closed the book and yawned from having woken up much earlier than I was used to. I wandered over to my computer and booted the system up. Opening the music sharing program I had downloaded ages ago, I searched for random songs until my I heard my cell phone ringing upstairs.

I pulled out my wand and summoned the phone to me. Before it had reached me though, my wand spit out some angry looking sparks. That being the first time I had ever seen my wand do that, I broke the charm and heard my phone crash onto the floor. I examined the wand but didn't see anything changed about it so I stuck it in my pocket and went to get my phone. It had stopped ringing by the time I got there but the ever persistent caller had dialed me again. The name on the screen said Gabrielle so I answered.

"Hey you," I said, stifling a yawn.

"Wow... This is kind of surprising. I was expecting to have to call you at least ten times before you woke up," Gabrielle said with a bit of a laugh. I smiled.

"What's even more surprising is that I've been up for hours now."

"Too excited about the World Cup I imagine," she replied in her accented voice.

"Something like that," I said evasively. Gabrielle was a firm believer in dream interpretation and as much as I was confused about my dream, I wasn't ready to listen to how my subconscious mind was sending me messages about things I wasn't ready to deal with.

"Well... Considering that you're up already, my wake up call is a little pointless."

"Just a little," I teased.

"Yeah yeah. Daddy says we'll be over in an hour to take the portkey from the Louvre to the stadium. See you then?" I gave her the affirmative with a 'Yes ma'am' before she called me a prat and hung up. I closed the phone and slipped it into my front pocket. I sat on my bed and leaned onto the pillows. Gabrielle Delacour. Where do I start? My relationship with her is a little complicated so bear with me.

I met Gabrielle during my first year at the Academy and since then, we've been pretty much attached at the hip. We're not dating, though everyone thinks we are, but there is mutual interest. She seems to hold all of the qualities I'd need in a girl; someone with the perfect balance of submissiveness and dominance. They've got to be able to tell me no at times, let me be in control at others, and have the wisdom to know the difference when to do so. I have to respect them enough to let them argue with me and be fine five minutes later. They have to have the patience to deal with my stubbornness as well as an adventurous attitude to go along with any crazy scheme I may come up with. All in all, Gabrielle is the perfect person for me but I can't seem to make myself get involved with her. Gabrielle says I have 'commitment issues' and I'll be the first to admit that she's right; just don't tell her that because she'll never let me hear the end of it. Anyways, my problem with commitment is probably the result of being pushed off onto others, first with the Potters and then with my relatives. You would think that because I acknowledge that I have issues, I'd be able to overcome them. While that's true, it's also true that just because you understand the structure of your mentality, doesn't mean you have the ability to rebuild it. I told you it's complicated.

Sitting up in bed, I walked over to the mirror and looked myself over. My dark hair was still sticking up in all directions, just as I liked it, and my green eyes didn't hold any tell-tale signs of tiredness. I glanced over the rest of my appearance and smiled. Fate may have given my brother a family, but she definitely gave me the looks and to those of you who say I have a bit of childish vanity, I have two words for you: suck it.

I exited my room and went back to the study to transfer the music I had downloaded to my iPod. It took all of three minutes before I disconnected the device, slipped it into my pocket, and headed towards my living room, book in hand. I flopped onto the couch and resumed my reading, this time with a complementary soundtrack to accompany the words. I was halfway through a chapter on the difference of fire and water when used in spells when lime green flames shot out of my fireplace and a blond haired witch fell out with a thump. I pulled the headphones out of my ears and looked at Gabrielle with a raised eyebrow. She usually walked with grace and was never one for clumsiness so seeing her fall out of the fireplace was really odd. Gabrielle stood up and brushed her clothes off. She turned and noticed me one the couch, eyebrow still cocked.

"A log shifted as I was leaving and caught on my shoe," she said indignantly.

"Right..."

Gabrielle moved over to the couch just as the fireplace lit up once more to deposit Mr. Delacour into my living room in a much more dignified way. Gabrielle's father was a plump little man with a small dark beard. He had dark skin that had tanned with an excess of sunlight and his eyes were just as dark as his hair. He was a contrast to the rest of his family who were tall, blond, and blue eyed. He was usually dressed in varying dark shades of wizard robes but today he wore a Muggle business suit, odd attire for a sporting match. Mr. Delacour is the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation for the French ministry so I could only assume that he had errands to attend to before coming to the World Cup.

I placed my book on the coffee table and stood up to greet Mr. Delacour. I offered my hand to him, which he gripped firmly.

"Harry, my dear boy. It's been quite awhile since we've seen each other. How are you?" he asked, his voice held a rough French accent.

"I'm great, sir. I trust you're well? How's Apolline?"

"She's fine, just fine. Been baking up a storm this week so I hope you visit sometime."

"Yes sir. I'll be sure to do that."

"Come on! We don't want to be late for the portkey!" Gabrielle interrupted, pulling on my arm.

I laughed. "The portkey doesn't leave for a half hour. We've got plenty of time.''

"Well it's better to be early than late Harry Phoenix! Something you'd do well to remember for the next semester of school. You were late how many times in one month? Fourteen?" she replied impatiently.

"Twelve," I corrected, avoiding Mr. Delacour's gaze. He holds a special place on his pet peeve list for tardiness. I avoided further criticism by going upstairs to retrieve my shoes. Once the party of three were on the way towards the Louvre Museum, which was only a few minutes from my apartment, a small smile played on my lips as I looked around me. One of the things that I absolutely love about living in the heart of Paris is the structure of the buildings that surround my apartment. Standing out on my balcony, I have a view of most of the rooftops in the arrondissement. Walking the streets however, I'm able to see the height of each building and the various styles of architecture. Don't ask me to identify these styles though. Architectural design is so not my strongest field.

We reached the museum without much hassle and the only trouble we encountered was an overly aggressive bicycle courier with a deadline to meet. Because of the early hour, the museum was still closed and the surrounding sidewalks were bare of pedestrians though standing near the front doors of the amazingly designed museum was a small crowd of six, none of whom I recognized though I knew they were wizards. We milled around with the others, making small talk about the upcoming match: Ireland was the favorite for the win in this crowd. Nearly twenty minutes had passed with me teasing Gabrielle on our early arrival and her defending her position. In that time, five more had been added to our number: two elderly men and a trio of witches that I swore were triplets despite Gabrielle's insistence that I was wrong.

"Gather 'round everyone," a man with floral print shirt on said. In his hands was an old newspaper with crumpled edges and a smearing of mud along the front page. Apparently this was our portkey and I figured the man holding it must be the ministry representative escorting us to the stadium. I didn't think an escort was necessary but Mr. Delacour had explained that it was due our location. Leaving a magical object in a highly populated Muggle area would be just asking for trouble, especially if a Muggle were to pick the portkey up or move it to another area. The crowd jostled until everyone was within reach of the portkey. The man checked his watch and nodded his head, signaling that everyone should touch the portkey. "Five, four, three, two... one."

There was a jerk from behind my back, almost like someone had tied a rope around me and pulled with the intention of yanking me off my feet. I was flying through the air in a swirl of color with my finger still attached to the shovel. My hair was being blown in all directions by a fierce, howling wind until my feet slammed into the ground. Gabrielle nearly fell to the ground with the force of the landing but I held her steady and the portkey fell with a light crinkling of the pages. I looked around me, taking in the woods and the barren field that surrounded until a voice rang out from behind me.

"Three past five from Louvre Museum."

**A/N: Hope you loved this chapter. I got it out a lot faster than I had anticipated. Remember to review and check out my profile! There's always information on the story there: fun facts, replies to reviews, etc. The next chapter should be up soon. :)**


	3. The Quidditch World Cup

**Chapter 3: The Quidditch World Cup**

I held onto Gabrielle's arm until she was completely steady on her feet. She's never liked traveling by portkey and she can sometimes get lightheaded, though that didn't seem to be the case this time. I released her arm and she gave me a sweet smile. I smiled back and looked to where the voice had come from. Standing behind us were the most unusually dressed pair of wizards that Gabrielle hid her head in my back to attempt to stifle her laughter and I was finding it hard to keep a smile off my face. Both wizards looked grumpy and tired; given the hour, it was expected. The one on the right held a large golden pocket watch and had a tweed suit with thigh high galoshes. The other man held a thick roll of parchment and a quill. He was the most amusingly dressed of the both of them with a kilt and poncho adorning his body.

"Morning," said the man in the kilt. One of the other members of our group had picked up the newspaper and handed it to him. The kilted wizard threw it into a box that had a variety of used portkeys: a punctured football, an old drink can, and a bicycle tire. "I need you all to step over here please. We've got a party of nine coming from Stoatshead Hill in two minutes. If you give me your last names, I'll find your campsites."

Mr. Delacour stepped forward and explained that we hadn't reserved a site but that Gabrielle and I were going to stay with a few friends. He gave the name, the man consulted his parchment, and then directed us to a field that was about a mile and a half from our current spot. Mr. Delacour told us he had a few loose ends to tie up with other members of his department and that he would be at the site shortly. With that, Gabrielle and I set off for our destination just as group of redheads arrived at the portkey station. After twenty minutes of walking silently, we came across a small cottage where queues of people were lining up. Beyond the cottage were hundreds of tents lined up like small hills. The man standing at the cottage door was talking to a couple of wizards who were attempting to pay for their campsite. From the sound of things, the men were using some kind of foreign money the man had never seen before. Gabrielle and I continued along our route for nearly twenty minutes.

"GABRIELLE! HARRY!" We turned towards the source of the voice and found a group of students from the Academy smiling at us. We walked over to their campsite.

"Just who we were looking for," Gabrielle said with a smile as she hugged Margaux Ménard, a girl with blondish brown hair that reached her hips. The way she had it done today, untied and wavy, she reminded me of the stereotypical look of a mermaid. Of our close knit group of friends, Margaux was Gabrielle's closest girl friend. They had met during our first year at the Academy and there were times I could swear they communicate with each other with looks alone. Girls are just good like that...

Margaux then turned to me and gave me a light hug. She understood that I'm more of a loner but Gabrielle was family to her, which also made me family. It's not that I didn't have friends, as there were plenty of people who had tried over the years to take that position in my life. For whatever reason though, I'm not comfortable calling too many people 'friend', though this group had proven themselves over the years that they would be the real deal, had I ever given them the chance. Gabrielle knows everything about my entire life and at times, that sets me on edge so I can't imagine other people knowing my past. Regardless of that, I turned to the last members of our clique: the LeFevre twins.

Adrian and Damien were identical twins with dark blond hair and long noses. They stood up in unison and reached out to shake my hand, which I hesitated to accept. These two have are competitive by nature and are always trying to make everyone choose between them, even perfect strangers. As of now, they're tied for points in that department. Since I've never chosen between them, they're always coming up with subtle ways to make me choose. Once, they argued for over two hours about how I addressed them. It was Adrian's claim that because I say his name first, I like him more than Damien, despite my argument of it just being in alphabetical order. Looking at the outstretched hands, I figured this was one of those subtle attempts to make me choose and as early as it was, I was so not ready for listening to an hour long argument about something so frivolous.

"Nice try guys. It's not happening though," I said. Gabrielle had rejoined me and reached out for my arm.

"Margaux and I have just come up with the best idea." Gabrielle smiled at me before continuing. "We think we should stick around here for a bit, at least long enough for it to be officially declared daylight, and then head to the Muggle village that's close by. We can get some food there and explore a little bit. It's certainly more fun than hanging around this campground all day."

Adrian, Damien, and I looked at each other and sighed. We already knew that whatever we said, we were going with the girls and there was no use arguing about it. They usually got what they wanted anyways.

So giving into the girls, we all sat around the fire, talking about nothing in particular until the sun was sitting squarely in the sky. Once it was, Adrian and Damien scattered to their own tents to get the go-ahead for our excursion. Margaux popped her head into her family's tent and told her mother we were leaving. Mr. Delacour had shown up, gave his blessing, and then disappeared once more with other members of his department as trouble became apparent in some fashion. Once we had regrouped, we set off for the village that was nearly two miles away on foot since the magical community attending the match was to do so incognito. Along the way we had a few laughs: mostly at wizards who were failing miserably at adhering to the Muggle dress code. One wizard in particular was dressed in a long flowery nightgown and was arguing with his friend about his attire, which drew quite a few laughs. We ran into Mr. Delacour who was speaking with his opposite in the English ministry, Barty Crouch, about adding seats to the top boxes. Mr. Crouch was muttering about finding Ludo Bagman as he was supposed to commentate the match but was more than likely 'accepting bets instead of doing the job he was brought here to do'. We waved to Gabrielle's father and continued on until we reached the border of the campsite. Once we crossed the threshold, the village was within our sights.

We spent the next couple hours wandering from shop to shop and by the time lunch arrived, each of us had a few bags of purchases. We stopped into a diner that was built to resemble another era of time. I ordered a plain double cheeseburger with mayonnaise on the side. You know, it may be unhealthy as hell (something Margaux was quick to point out... 'You're going to turn that six-pack into a keg if you're not careful...'), but the greasy, cheesy, gooey mess I ate for lunch definitely hit the spot. After lunch we spent another few hours in the village before going back to the campground. Along the way, our friends found out that Gabrielle and I would be watching the match from the top box. That fact, met with envy and a few congratulations, was never questioned by them. They all just assumed the tickets came from Mr. Delacour which brings me to the next fun fact. My friends know nothing about the multiple secrets I keep from them. It's not that I don't trust them, 'cause I do. It's more of the fact that I'd rather not have them look at me differently once they know who I actually am. Perhaps I should be more trusting of them, but I'm just not ready to face the consequences of my choices yet. Call me a coward. Whatever. This is my story; therefore you can't tell me how to write it.

Now you may have noticed that I refer to this group as my friends and that before I had stated that I didn't have many people I would call 'friend'. To save your sanity and any questioning glances when introductions are due, I tend to say they're my friends. Maybe one day I'll start to tell them bit by bit, just to see how they'd digest it but I have no doubt they would still see me as me. That fact doesn't banish the tiny voice in my head that says that there's a possibility I could be wrong and as long as that exists, I'll keep my secrets.

Anyways, once we were back at the camp, our group dispersed to separate tents and we found Mr. Delacour sitting around the fire with Margaux's father. I assumed her mother was inside preparing dinner as I could smell meat frying. We entered the tent that had been magically enlarged. From the outside, the tent looked like it would barely hold two people but once you stepped inside, it was obvious this tent had more than five rooms to it. Gotta love magic right?

We deposited our purchases into the guest rooms that Margaux had showed us before exiting once more. We sat around the fire until dinner was served. In the meantime dusk had fallen and salesmen were Apparating every few feet to show off their merchandise. Gabrielle bought a few programs and some Irish flags that sang the national anthem when waved. I bought some special binoculars called Omnioculars that had numerous amounts of functions. Gabrielle and I exchanged souvenirs just as a gong sounded in the distance.

"Come on," Mr. Delacour said with a smile. "It's time."

I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I stood up with the others. I grabbed my Irish flag and with a quick pace, one that our group matched with equal excitement, we set off towards what we assumed was the stadium; the large mass of other spectators moving in the same direction was a dead giveaway to common sense. We entered the woods and followed the red and green lantern lit trail where we could hear thousands of people singing. We caught bits of excited yelling and laughing. The entire atmosphere was intoxicating; everyone wore a smile. We had been walking for twenty five minutes before we finally emerged on the other side of the strip of trees and what met my eyes made me literally stop in my tracks. The gigantic stadium was made of golden walls that were so shiny, it was a little painful to look at them for too long. I knew that because I was seeing only a portion of the stadium, it was even bigger than I could imagine. Seeing the look on my face, an amused Gabrielle pulled my arm and we started walking again. When we caught up with the group, Mr. Delacour was talking about the stadium.

"Seats a hundred thousand. Five different ministries sent representatives to create a task force of five hundred to work on it for the past year. There's Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it, of course," he said, leading the way towards the nearest entrance, which already housed a huge line of those waiting to get in their seats. When we reached the front of the line, I handed over the envelope that contained the two tickets that Minister Bodin had given me. Mr. Delacour showed his ministry credentials and the witch nodded before giving us pointless directions on walking upstairs.

We entered the stadium and turned towards stairs that were carpeted in a deep purple and were so numerous, I really started regretting using the top box tickets instead of getting regular seats like my friends. Sighing slightly, we made the way towards the top box with the crowd that was filtering through the doors on either side of the stairs. The crowd was getting smaller the higher we went until it was just Gabrielle and I climbing the stairs. Mr. Delacour had waved us off at the bottom, promising to meet up once he finished speaking with some ministry officials and our friends had splintered off near the middle of the stadium, cursing Gabrielle and I once again. When we reached the top of the stairs, my legs were aching but we found ourselves alone in a small box that housed twenty rich purple seats in two rows. The top box was housed at the highest point in the stadium and was situated at the half mark line between the goal posts. Across from our box was another. That one no doubt held Fudge and presumably the Bulgarian minister as well.

Gabrielle and I took two seats in the front row, farthest from the door. Gabrielle was glancing through her program so I pulled my Omnioculars out of my pocket and started playing with all the dials and knobs. There was one for slow-motion, zooming in, instant replay, and so many more that I couldn't even begin to figure out when to use. I looked down to the stadium that was filling quickly and began spying on its occupants. I know, I know. I'm a creeper but you'll get over it. See? You're still reading so that means you've been cured of the unnecessary judgment you passed. Pretty sweet huh?

Continuing to stalk the crowd from my perch, I pulled my gaze to the top box opposite of ours. It was identical in every way except that it currently held more people. There was a gaggle of redheads seated along with the very people I was least interested in spying on. Shaking the hand of what I assumed was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic was Henry Potter. The woman standing next to him had long red hair and the same emerald green eyes that just happened to be occupying my head. I knew who she was, along with the man standing next to her; James and Lily Potter. James, whom I also lovingly refer to as my sperm donor (or fat head, whichever is best suited for the time), was speaking with Fudge and the more I looked at the man, the more I realized that I was exact replica of him. Sure I've seen pictures of the family but seeing them up-close and personal, like I was now, I was able to see that the curve of his jaw matched mine and that my unruly hair was actually genetic. I pulled my eyes from fat head and looked back at Henry. Fortunately, he and I look nothing alike. His hair was neat and lighter than mine. Even from this distance, I could tell that I was taller and outweighed him by at least ten pounds. The Bulgarian Minister was pointing at Henry and talking excitedly from the looks of it. I could feel the anger start to bubble in my stomach and my lips tensed with annoyance. Having gotten lost in my own world, I jumped when Gabrielle spoke.

"You know, I'm betting that if looks could kill, that entire box of people would be annihilated." I looked at her to see that she had pulled out her Omnioculars, probably to see what had drawn my undivided attention. I rested my head against the back of my seat and sighed.

"Would it be wrong of me to say that I wish something like that would happen?" I asked, turning my head to look into her blue eyes.

She looked at me for a moment before answering. "My grandma used to tell me that having an unforgiving spirit creates a bond to those who have trespassed against us. That when you stay angry at someone, they gain power over you."

"They don't have power over me!" I argued.

"Whatever has your attention has you. I know you have every right in the world to be angry with them but just because they don't deserve forgiveness doesn't mean you shouldn't give it to them. More for your sake than theirs," she said softly.

I didn't say anything to her but turned my head until I was looking back at the crowd. Her words made sense but for whatever reason, I wasn't ready to forgive the Potters for abandoning me. My bitterness had been rooted in me for too long to just let it go without a second thought. I glanced at the opposing top box once more before pulling the hood on my sweatshirt over my head and shoving my hands in my pocket. I leaned down in my seat and rested my feet on the railing wall in front. With an echoing of _'Nothing has me' _playing in my mind, I stewed over Gabrielle's words until the other occupants of the box arrived.

In the six years that I've known Perry Bodin, I haven't found one bad thing to say about the man. He has caramel colored eyes, graying brown hair, and an addiction to chocolate, though he detests fudge; both the man and the delectable treat. Out of all the Ministers France's wizarding world has had, it's a unanimous decision that Perry Bodin is the best of the best. He's passed laws that enable the fair treatment of 'half breeds' like werewolves in the employment market and tightened the laws on the use of dark magic. By far, my respect for him outshines that of many others in my life.

"Gabrielle, my dear!" Perry exclaimed, giving her a hug.

"Harry! I'm glad to see you came despite the trouble from the press." At Gabrielle's questioning gaze, Bodin explained. "Fudge found out that the head of EBI would be at the match and decided to try for a press conference. Needless to say, he didn't get what he wanted."

"What exactly did you do?" I asked, interested in what was used to stop the pompous man.

"I just explained to him that if he tried to hold a press conference concerning EBI that a total of fourteen wizarding and Muggle Ministers would view that as an act of harassment and more importantly, France's involvement in an upcoming event would be withdrawn," Bodin explained. The loyal allies that Bodin had among other Ministers wasn't surprising so it made sense that he would use that as leverage over Fudge. What did surprise me was the mysterious event that had at least two of the world's major wizarding worlds involved.

"What event?"

Perry just laughed and said we'd find out soon enough. He asked if I had prepared a statement for the press, which I had completely forgotten to do. I ripped out a page of the program that described the Firebolts that were being used in the match and wrote 'Bugger off!' at the bottom. When I gave that to Perry, he laughed and placed it in his pocket. More people started entering the box and though not liking the secrecy about this 'event' (as I have a habit of surrendering to my curiosity), I made a mental note to ask Mr. Delacour about it again once we were home. Several handshakes and increasingly annoying conversations later, I learned that most of the people in the top box were Ministry officials, both French and Irish. The Irish Minister arrived with Mr. Delacour, having come from meeting with Fudge and the Bulgarian Minister. As the start of the match grew closer, my excitement built and my annoyance with the Potters vanished. Suddenly, a loud booming voice filled the stadium, echoing off of every golden wall.

"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The roar from the crowd was deafening. The national anthems emitted from the waving flags added to the noise, though they couldn't be distinguished. I saw the huge blackboard situated near the field clear of its last flashing advertisement and now showed a scoreboard; BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stadium, a sea of red, roared their approval as extremely beautiful women glided out onto the field at a swift pace. They had skin that shone brightly and platinum golden hair that fanned out from their heads like a nonexistent breeze had caught it. Music struck up from somewhere in the stadium, the women, also known as veela, started dancing, and from out of nowhere, an odd urge to look at Gabrielle pulled my gaze to her. When my eyes caught hers, the smile that lit her face was absolutely amazing. Everything else faded from my view and the only thing that existed was her. It seemed that for the first time, I was taking in her entire appearance and everything about it held a glow that made her look stunning. Her blue eyes seemed brighter than I have ever seen them and as cliché as it sounds, I could feel myself getting lost within them. I reached out and placed my hand to the side of her face. She leaned into the touch and I ran my thumb across the skin of her cheek.

Suddenly, the music stopped and the veela stopped dancing, though it was met with angry shouting. Everything came back into focus around me and I let out a deep breath I didn't realize I was holding. My hand fell away from Gabrielle's face though her smile remained intact. I turned toward the stadium just as Bagman's booming voice filled the air once more.

"And now... kindly put your wands in the air … for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

With the introduction, the Irish supporters jumped to their feet in a roar of approval and a great gold-and-green comet came shooting into the stadium. It soared across the stadium before splitting into two smaller comets and began a series of laps around the stadium during which time I brooded on what had just happened between Gabrielle and I. Though I couldn't explain what happened, I knew it had nothing to do with Gabrielle being a quarter veela herself. I couldn't shake the feelings I got from looking at her so in true guy fashion, I dismissed them and focused on something I could understand: the Quidditch match. The two comets then zoomed off towards opposite ends of the field and a rainbow formed between them. Once the rainbow faded, the two comets formed a giant shamrock, that flew high into the sky before flying over the stands and what looked like golden raindrops were falling from it. The closer the shamrock became, the more distinct the shapes it was comprised of became.

"Leprechauns!" I shouted to Gabrielle. The applause as so loud, I had to scream to be heard. When we looked up at the shamrock, it was confirmed: tiny little bearded men with red vests and a lamp of gold or green in hand were floating above the stands. When the shamrock flew over the top box, heavy gold coins rained down and bounced off chairs and heads. After a particularly painful thump on my head, I was no longer enjoying the leprechauns. People began scurrying about in the stands, trying to collect the gold. I however, remained in my seat. Leprechaun gold has a funny habit of disappearing so I knew there was no use trying to get the coins. The shamrock had taken up residence in the center of the field once more before dissolving into individual leprechauns. They drifted down from the sky and sat opposite the veela on the field.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you – Dimitrov!"

Out of an entrance below the field shot a scarlet figure moving extremely fast it appeared to be blurred. The applause from the stands was wild.

"Ivanova!" I watched another scarlet figure zoom out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaaand – Krum!" Five figures had zoomed out as the names were called and had joined the first two players near their goals. I had dialed my Omnioculars to slow-motion and looked at the brooms the players were flying. Each one had "Firebolt" etched into the side along with the serial numbers each broom was assigned. I felt a swell of pride that the brooms I had created were being used by every professional Quidditch team in the world, as was the case.

"And now, please greet – the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting – Connolly! Ryan! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand – Lynch!" Seven green blurs flew onto the field.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small wizard, even in the Omnioculars, strode out onto to the field wearing robes of pure gold. He was completely bald with a peculiar looking mustache and a silver whistle around his neck. In his hands were a large wooden crate and a Firebolt. The referee placed the crate on the ground, mounted his broomstick, and then kicked open the crate. From it flew two speeding black Bludgers, the larger red Quaffle, and the Golden Snitch, which I followed with my eyes briefly before it disappeared into the air. Mostafa let out a sharp blast on his whistle and then shot into the air with the players already zooming around the field.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

I had been to over fifty professional Quidditch matches in the past six years and honestly, this one takes the cake. The players were moving so fast they became blurs in the air and the formations they flew in were incredible. There was a perfect execution of the Hawkshead Attacking Formation by the Irish with Troy flying center ahead of Mullet and Moran followed by a flawless Porskoff Ploy as Troy moved upward with the Quaffle in hand. The Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova followed but Troy dropped the Quaffle to Moran. The Bulgarian Beater Volkov swung at one of the Bludgers towards Moran, who ducked and dropped the Quaffle. Levski was flying below, caught it, and took for towards the opposite end of the field. Both of the Irish Beaters gained control of the Bludgers and sent them hurling towards Levski, who had to roll in midair to avoid the balls. He had dropped the Quaffle, which was caught Troy. He moved towards the Bulgarians' goal posts and had just barely made it past the Keeper to score the first goal of the game.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

The leprechauns on the sidelines of the field had risen into the air in mockery of the opposing team. They formed a glittering shamrock that the veela looked at with disdain. I resumed watching the match and within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more. The applause from the green-clad Irish supporters was thunderous. Though the players were moving at an amazing speed, the match became faster as the brutality levels of the players rose. The Bulgarian Beaters were in control of the Bludgers and were smacking them at Irish players fiercely in an attempt to stop plays by their opponents. Twice they succeeded until Ivanova dodged the Keeper and scored Bulgaria's first goal. The veela had stood up in celebration and began to dance. Once again I was drawn to look into Gabrielle's eyes as everything faded until I could only see her face. After a few seconds, though I couldn't exactly tell, everything around me came back into focus. I continued to look at her, blocking out the match as I had become extremely confused about what was happening, and she met my gaze squarely.

It was until thousands of gasps were heard from around us that our attention broke and we looked towards the field. The two seekers, Krum and Lynch, had gone into a sudden dive. They were plummeting towards the ground at such a rate that I couldn't believe. I glanced down ahead of the seekers, attempting to catch a glimpse of the golden snitch but not seeing anything, I looked back at Krum. His face was contorted with concentration as he descended towards the field.

"HE'S FEINTING!" I shouted and I was proven right. At the very last second possible, Krum had pulled out of the dive and spiraled off into the air. Lynch wasn't as lucky. He hit the ground with a dull thud that was heard even in the top box.

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!" A huge groan rose from the Irish supporters.

Though I was an Irish fan, I had to hand it to Krum: he was a damn good seeker. I myself play seeker on one of the Academy's teams and have never come as close to the ground as Krum did when executing a Wronski Feint. He moved through the air almost as if he wasn't using a broomstick and was currently circling high above Lynch as he received cups of a potion from the mediwizards, though Krum's eyes weren't on his opponent. They were scanning the sky for any glint of the Golden Snitch. Again, he's a damn good seeker. Once Lynch was on his feet again, he mounted his Firebolt to a loud cheering from the Irish fans, and kicked off into the air once more. The referee blew his whistle and game play resumed with much more vigor than before.

Fifteen minutes went by and Ireland had scored ten more goals. The score was now a hundred and thirty to ten and the players' tactics got dirtier. When Mullet shot out towards the goal posts, Zograf flew out to meet her though what exactly happened after that, it was hard to tell. Mostafa blew his whistle loudly which told me a foul had been committed.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing – excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the stunned crowd. "And – yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

Down on the sidelines, the leprechauns had darted into the air when Mullet was fouled and were now forming the glittering words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela, in retaliation, leapt to their feet and tossed their hair angrily before starting to dance. Now, it doesn't take an idiot to realize that every time the veela started dancing, something strange came over me. Once I knew the veela were going to dance, I shoved my fingers in my ears and clamped my eyes shut. It seemed to work because the next thing I knew, Gabrielle was pulling on my arm and pointing towards the field laughing. I looked down at the field and what I saw made me laugh really hard. Hassan Mostafa landed in front of the dancing veela and was flexing his muscles then smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said an amused Bagman. "Someone slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came running onto the field with his fingers stuffed in his ears. When he reached Mostafa, he kicked him hard in the shins until Mostafa became controlled again. Through my Omnioculars, Mostafa looked embarrassed before he started shouting at the veela who had stopped dancing to glare at the referee.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman. "Now _there's_ something we haven't seen before... Oh this could turn nasty..."

The Bulgarian Beaters had landed beside Mostafa and began to argue with him. The leprechauns had formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE!" Mostafa seemed unimpressed by the Beaters' arguments and was pointing his finger towards the sky in an attempt to tell the players to get flying again, which they refused. Mostafa then gave two blasts on his whistle.

"_Two_ penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms... yes... there they go... and Troy takes the Quaffle..."

The Beaters for both teams were swinging their clubs angrily and the Bulgarians seemed to have no shame in acting without mercy towards the Irish. Dimitrov flew at Moran, who was in possession of the Quaffle, and nearly knocked her off her broom. The stadium filled with angry shouts from the Irish supporters.

"Foul!" said Bagman. "Dimitrov skins Moran – deliberately flying to collide there – and it's got to be another penalty to Ireland – yes, there's the whistle!"

Once more the leprechauns had risen into the air but this time they formed a giant hand that was making obscene gestures towards the veela and once more the veela stood up. This time however, they launched themselves across the field at the leprechauns, throwing balls of fire at the little men. The faces of the veela had elongated into bird heads with sharp beaks. Long, scaly wings had grown from their shoulders and their fingers had lengthened with claws pointing out from the end.

"The best thing about being only a quarter veela?" Gabrielle said while leaning over. I tilted my head towards hers. "That can never happen to me."

I laughed. "Thank Merlin. I think I'd die of fright."

Meanwhile, the Chasers for both teams were fighting for control of the Quaffle with incredible speed.

"Levski – Dimitrov – Moran – Troy – Mullet – Ivanova – Moran again – Moran – MORAN SCORES!"

The ministry officials who had come out onto the field to attempt to disperse the riot of the mascots were issuing blasts from their wands at the shrieking veela. The noise on the field muffled the congratulatory applause from the spectators. Levski had taken control of the Quaffle and passed it to Dimitrov. The Irish Beater Quigley had swung his small club at one of the Bludgers and sent it towards Krum. The Bulgarian Seeker hadn't ducked quick enough to dodge the ball and it hit him square in the face.

I grimaced as blood spurted from Krum's nose. It looked completely mangled and was broken without a doubt. Fortunately, I've never had the experience of being hit in the face with a Bludger though one did make quite a lovely connection with the back of my head during my third year. Luckily, I was knocked unconscious otherwise I would've been screaming bloody murder from the pain. Looking towards the referee to see why he wasn't calling foul, it became apparent that he was a little preoccupied: the veela had thrown fire at him as well, setting the tail of his broom on fire. I scanned the skies, looking for Lynch. I figured he'd be using Krum's handicap to his advantage and when I spotted him, he was doing just that. The player had suddenly gone into a dive following a golden glint.

"Lynch has the snitch! He's seen it!" I shouted. The other people in the stadium realized this too. The sea of Irish fans were screaming their Seeker on as Krum pulled his broom around and caught up to Lynch. Krum and Lynch became neck and neck with only eight feet from the ground. Krum pulled out of the dive with his arm raised in victory while Lynch slammed into the ground for the second time. The scoreboard read BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170. As the stunned spectators realized what happened, the applause and screams of the Irish supporters had reached an all-time high.

"IRELAND WINS!" shouted Bagman. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH – BUT IRELAND WINS – good lord; I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

Though unexpected, it was understandable: Krum realized the Irish chasers were too good. He wanted to end the match on his terms, despite enabling Ireland to win the World Cup. As I explained this to Gabrielle, she just rolled her eyes and muttered about the stupidity of boys. I laughed and glanced down at the field once more and found that the riot of the mascots had ended with the catch of the Snitch. The veela shrank back into themselves, looking very dejected. Krum was on the ground with his teammates, refusing medical treatment for his broken nose. The leprechauns had joined their team and were raining gold down on them as the team flew around the stadium.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Irish Top Box!" roared Bagman.

I looked towards the door just as the entire top box was illuminated with a blinding white light. Two wizards brought in a large golden cup which was handed to Minister Bodin. He, in turn, gave it to his Irish opposite with a large smile on his face. I could see thousands of glints from Omniocular lenses and it suddenly occurred to me that the people in the other Top Box could see into ours. Panic flooded my system as I jerked my hood around my face. A hand was placed on my shoulder and I looked back to discover it was Perry.

"Relax Harry. There are glamour charms around the entire box. Regardless of who is actually in here, all the crowd will see is the Ministers and the Irish team," he whispered in my ear. He had mentioned new security measures for the Top Box but I had completely forgotten about it. I smiled in relief and mouthed my thanks.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers – Bulgaria!" shouted Bagman.

Across the stadium in the Top Box, the Bulgarian team entered to applause from the crowd. They shook hands with both Ministers and the crowd gave them another loud roar. Bagman introduced the winners of the Quidditch World Cup as they entered the Top Box. Their Minister handed over the cup to a tremendous roar of approval.

I turned to face Gabrielle with my cheeks hurting from smiling so much. She was screaming along with a hundred thousand other people as the Irish Quidditch team performed another lap of honor around the stadium. Her face was shining from her smile and when she saw me staring, her eyebrows raised and she mouthed her question.

I whispered in her ear. "Nothing, you're just amazingly gorgeous when you smile."

**A/N: Obviously I don't own the commentary used in this chapter as it's from the canon book. Anyways, hope you liked the chapter enough to review. Replies to the few reviews from the last chapter are up in my profile. Hopefully this one gets a lot more reviews. :)**


	4. The Dark Mark

**The Phoenix Chronicles: Goblet of Fire  
>Chapter 4: The Dark Mark<strong>

The outcome of the World Cup had created a frenzy within the crowds of people exiting the stadium complete with loud cheers and singing. Gabrielle and I were walking side by side on the trail that was now lit with green and gold lanterns. The red ones had mysteriously disappeared, though I would imagine the cackling leprechauns flying overhead had something to do with that. I watched them flying until I became aware of Gabrielle calling my name.

"Harry?" Gabrielle said, bringing me out of my reverie.

"Huh?"

"I said, did you mean what you said back there? About me being pretty?" she asked. She was looking at the leprechauns darting through the air and wouldn't meet my eyes.

"No." She stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes immediately snapped to mine.

"You didn't?" Her voice had gotten tight so I turned to face her completely.

"No. I said you were gorgeous and I meant it," I replied. I reached out to take her hand. "Come on. Margaux probably has everyone over for a party and you know how impatient she can be."

I hadn't let go of her hand when I began to pull her along the path something she was quick to notice as she eventually fell into step beside me with her grip of my hand firm. We walked the rest of the way to the tent in silence. As expected, there was a small crowd surrounding a large bonfire. Most of the people I recognized from the Academy and nodded to in greeting but there were a few scattered around that I couldn't place. Figuring they were friends of friends, I made my way through the people and entered the tent while Gabrielle split from me with a tight squeeze of my hand when she saw Margaux. In the kitchen, Adrian and Damien were pouring bottles of different liquids into a large tub. What the bottles contained, I don't know but I could venture a guess or two.

"Thank Merlin! It took you long enough to get here! I've been waiting forever and a day, " Adrian said, once I had made my way over to the kitchen area.

"Hey! I walked down a million stairs so excuse me if I took me a bit longer to get here," I replied.

"Ugh, fine. Can you just work your magic and get that radio working? Margaux's parents have cleared out for the night so we need some serious music to get this party started!"

"I'll do you one better. I bought a home deck for my iPod today so we can just use that. Trust me, it's a lot better than this," I said indicating the ancient looking radio. I went to the guest room to retrieve the home deck while the twins pondered over what the hell a home deck was. I pulled the box out and removed the packaging. I tucked it under my arm and grabbed another bag. This one contained extra speakers and a reel of wiring.

"Where's the wife?" Damien asked, once I reached the living room.

"Outside somewhere with Margaux I would imagine." I ignored the wife comment as Gabrielle and I are often referred to as a bickering married couple when we get to arguing. Everyone is under the impression we'll be getting married someday anyways; all we need is to go through the formalities. There's no use arguing with them either as they just brush it off or say I'm getting cold feet. My friends can be very annoying at times. My cell phone started vibrating in my pocket so I pulled it out. The name on the screen read Nicolette so I held my hand up to stop Damien from continuing the assessment of my relationship with Gabrielle, or lack thereof.

"Yes ma'am?" I said once I flipped open the phone and walked back to the guest room.

"Hi Harry. Sorry that it's so late. I just need confirmation for advertisements of the Emberbolt to be placed in Quality Quidditch Supplies for London, Paris, Beijing, New York, and Cameroon. Their representatives are really jumping on my back for the posters," Nicolette said.

"They do realize the Emberbolt isn't going to hit the market for another four months right?"

"Yes, I mentioned that several times. They just want to build the hype for the Special Editions by advertising them in advance. They figure they could get better bids once people realize how in demand the brooms are and that there are a limited number being produced."

"That's true," I said. "Alright. Confirm for London, Beijing, New York, and Cameroon. Ask Paris to negotiate on a higher placement cost. If they agree, confirm. If not, tell them that Moscow is next in line for placing a bid. If that doesn't change their minds, contact Moscow for their deposit."

"Do you have a particular number in mind for Paris?" she asked. I could hear her scribbling my instruction down on paper.

"Not really. I'm sure they'll give in to any number you ask for."

"And if they don't?"

"Tell Moscow the deposit had dropped from fifty percent to forty per unit. They should confirm with that."

"Alright. I'll get back to you in the morning with some news."

"Thanks Nicolette," I said before she hung up.

I walked back to the living room where now Gabrielle had joined in the fray of harassing me for music.

"Who was that?" she asked, referring to the phone call.

"My cousin," I said bending down to assemble the speaker system and she immediately understood that I meant Nicolette, who isn't my cousin in the slightest. We often have to speak in code around our friends because they don't know my role in EBI.

To cure your wonder in Nicolette Aubry, she is a Muggle student living in Paris. I hired her a year and a half ago after I decided that the administrative aspect of running EBI was interfering with every other part of my life. She took on the role of my personal assistant until she graduates, though she says she'd like to stay on after that as well. I'm assuming it's because were she to not accept the position any longer, she fears she'll lose contact with the world that has fascinated her from the very moment she was told about it. I had to get authorization from Minister Bodin to tell her about our world but that wasn't hard. He knew that I wouldn't ask for it unless Nicolette was capable of handling EBI's duties. She had to accept a vow of silence as part of the agreement but that was mainly for the legalities of the issue because I know that Nicolette would never betray a secret that was entrusted to her. She has a moral anchor the size of a whale. Anyways, now that you know about her, we can continue with the story.

Once the speakers were assembled with their wiring, I took out my iPod, selected a playlist that would appease Gabrielle, and set it on the deck. Out of the numerous speakers strewn about the room blared music almost instantly. Over the sound of the beat, I could hear cheers of approval for the music. Adrian and Damien had rearranged the furniture to create a dance floor that people were starting to filter towards. Margaux tapped me on the back in thanks and shoved a drink into my hand. It smelled fruity so I took a small sip. From the stinging in my throat, I gathered there was definitely alcohol in the punch, likely more than one kind. Despite the slight burning from the surprise ingredient, I finished drinking my glass of the LeFevre concoction in a few gulps. The twins hooted in delight and chugged their own glasses.

On the couch across from me, Gabrielle was watching me with a slight smile. I went to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses of the lethal punch, and walked over to her. The music was loud and I shout to be heard.

"Come on, dance with me."

I handed her the glass, gulped my own down once more before encouraging her to do the same. She grimaced from the burn of the alcohol but nevertheless she consumed her drink quickly. I pulled her up and onto the dance floor where we matched each other in dance moves that complemented the other. Her hips moved with the beat and she kept her eyes focused on mine. We danced for quite a bit before Margaux came over and pulled us both towards the kitchen where the was a small crowd. Lined on the table were small glasses that looked like they contained the punch. Margaux pushed me towards the end of the table. Opposite me sat large boy with black hair. He looked to be the size of small rhino and had a smug look on his face.

"Are you kidding me? This little wizard can't out drink me even if he was given a head start!" the boy scoffed with an Irish accent. His friends were crowded around him, patting him on the back in agreement.

"Fifty galleons says he can!" Adrian fired back. I pulled him away from the table.

"What're you doing? He'll kill me! Have you seen how big he is or did you miss that _little_ fact?" I hissed into his ear. By no means am I a rookie when it comes to drinking alcohol but this guy had to outweigh me by a good hundred pounds.

"Relax Harry. You can take him out," he paused. "Or are you scared?"

I narrowed my eyes before taking my place at the end of the table. I've never been one to back down from a challenge. The crowd around us had grown significantly. Gabrielle stood behind me along with those that I guessed were supporting me; there weren't as many as the other guy though this didn't bother me. Damien stepped up to the table and started pouring more glasses of the punch with help from his twin.

"The rules are... there are no rules." I snorted. Trust Damien to think of something stupid to say. "The first one to deny a drink, puke, or pass out loses. Got it?"

We both nodded our consent before drinks were placed before us. I raised my glass to my opponent.

"Here's to you and here's to me. If we ever disagree, screw you and here's to me!" I downed my glass as the crowd laughed.

Drink after drink was placed before us. Every glass that my opponent consumed, I matched. By the ninth glass, my throat wasn't registering the burn from the alcohol. In fact, I could barely taste anything anymore. My eyes started to lose focus slightly and my head was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. My face felt really hot and it didn't take long for me to throw off my sweatshirt. My opponent wasn't faring any better. I could see that his eyes were sliding in and out of focus. He was leaning back and forth in his chair with sweat building up on his forehead. The speed of the drinking had slowed as the drinks in front of us had been sitting there for nearly two minutes. I picked up my glass and waited for my opponent to do the same before downing the glass and slamming it back onto the table.

At this current point in time, my stomach was fighting me for control. I closed my eyes and put my forehead down on the table. Someone came to stand next to me and placed their hand on my back, rubbing it in small circles. I assumed it was Gabrielle and after a minute, I won the battle with my stomach. I swallowed hard and looked up at my opponent. He was leaning back in his chair with his hand covering his face. I picked up the drink Adrian placed down in front of me and waited. The large boy's friends were urging him to pick up his drink. He uncovered his face and I could see his eyes were entirely out of focus. He reached for his drink before pulling his hand back slightly. With his friends rooting him on, the boy eventually picked up his glass. I pushed my head back, closed my eyes, and forced the drink down my throat. My stomach definitely hated me at this point. I kept my eyes closed and listened to the crowd around me grow louder. I heard Adrian shouting something but I was having trouble making out the individual words he was saying.

"Ten seconds... considered denying... rules..."

I opened my eyes once the crowd started getting louder. From what I could tell, they were counting down from ten to one. I looked at my opponent to figure out what was going on. In his hand was the glass with the punch still inside. The crowd was getting louder the closer they got to the end of their countdown until they reached one with a tremendous roar. The large boy placed the drink on the table and slammed his head down. I knew exactly how he was feeling at the moment. I stood up, which was probably the worst thing to do. I staggered as soon as I was on my feet and it didn't take long for me to hit the ground. Everything around me was fading in and out. I could hear someone calling my name so I attempted to stand up once more. With help from the hands that were suddenly under my arms, I was able to stand. I could see Gabrielle in front of me but the entire room was spinning so I closed my eyes to avoid getting sick. The next thing I knew, my head was hitting something soft and I was lying down. There were voices on every side of my head, though I couldn't make out what they were saying. I rolled over until my face was buried in this new mystery soft thing.

"Ev'rythinsmovin'," I slurred out.

I felt the hand on my back once more and a weight sank down next to me. I assume that I fell asleep because the next thing I was aware of was that I wasn't quite as dizzy as I had been before. I sat up in the bed I was laying in and found that I was in the guest bedroom. Gabrielle was asleep beside me and I could hear the music still playing in the living room. I pulled out my phone to check the time. According to the digital clock my phone displayed, I had only been asleep for four hours and given the noise level outside my room, the party was still pounding away. I fell back onto the pillows gently so that Gabrielle didn't wake up. I watched her sleep for a moment before I turned my gaze to the ceiling. I laid that way for awhile, not really thinking about anything in particular, until I heard screams outside the tent and sat up again. I was sober enough to know these screams were the kind someone lets out when something really bad just happened. Another scream, this one closer and more piercing split through the air causing Gabrielle sat up quickly.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I don't -" I was cut off by Margaux bursting into the room.

"Come on! Get outside now!" she said urgently.

"Mar-" Gabrielle began.

"There's no time to explain! Come on!" she yelled.

We jumped off the bed and followed Margaux as she ran through the tent towards the entrance to the tent. Once we were outside, I could see people running from tents back towards the stadium. I stopped running and looked for the source of the panic. Across the campground, tents were on fire and others were completely torn down and lay flat. There was an odd shape moving towards us, one making loud sharp noises and blinding flashes of light. Because I was still slightly intoxicated, everything I was witnessing seemed to hold a slow-motion quality about it. The screams I heard were delayed as were the flashes of light. After a strong burst of green light illuminated everything around us, I was able to see the shape more distinctly.

It was a small crowd of wizards, forming a tight circle as they marched across the campground. Their wands were in the air and I could see something floating above the circle of wizards. I looked closely at them to see that they were dressed in black robes with hoods. There was a white space where the faces should be and every now and then, one wizard would pull their wand down and light another tent on fire.

"HARRY!" Gabrielle screamed while pulling on my arm.

I turned away from the wizards and took off at a run with Gabrielle. We mixed into a large group of people running for the woods. I felt my hand lose its grip on Gabrielle's before I was pushed forward by the people around me. I shouted her name and tried to run back to the last place I felt her hand in mine but the force of the crowd was too strong. By the time I could turn around without being shoved, I was deep into the woods. I couldn't see anything around me though I could still hear the frightened screams coming from the campgrounds. I dug my hand into my pocket in search of my wand but came up empty-handed. I must've left it back at the tent which put me in the worst predicament. I pulled out my phone and dialed Gabrielle's number from memory. I listened to it ring over and over again before her voicemail picked up. I ended the call and tried again. When she didn't answer the second time, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and started to run back to the campground. I didn't get very far before I heard someone yelling.

"Hello? Who's there?"

I didn't answer as I heard another sound coming from behind me. Uneven, heavy footsteps were extremely close to me and I turned quickly. I still couldn't see anything so I hope that ostrich philosophy held true: If I can't see you, you can't see me. The footsteps came to a sudden halt about ten feet from me though I still couldn't see anything though I felt someone was just within my field of vision. Without warning, another voice rang out into the silence.

_"MORSMORDRE!"_

I watched as a large green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth rose into the sky. Screams were erupting from every direction and I knew why: this was the Dark Mark and it was used only by Voldemort's followers. The light the skull emitted illuminated everything around me and I could finally see the outline of the small person who conjured the Mark. I immediately formed a shield around me. It was rather sloppy due to the alcohol that was still streaming through my system though I knew that it would keep a good number of spells from touching me. Several large cracks cut through the air and the ringing of voices screaming a spell followed.

"_STUPIFY!_" I threw myself against a tree trunk as what seemed like twenty Stunning Spells shot through the trees. One of them made contact with the caster of the Dark Mark while the rest hit trees or fizzled out. I knew that with my current state of things, being caught at the scene of the Dark Mark would warrant quite a bit of trouble with the Ministry, regardless if I was innocent or not. I slid down the trunk of the tree and focused on changing the color of the air around me to blend into the tree trunk, effectively camouflaging me from view. Nearly twenty feet from me, I could see the lights from wand ends being pointed at something on the ground.

"Stop! STOP! _That's my son!_" A redheaded man came running into the clearing. "Ron - Henry - Hermione - are you alright?"

On the ground was none other than my brother and the other kids I had seen in the top box with him. The voice I heard earlier probably belonged to one of them. Henry and the other two sat up as I recognized Mr. Crouch entering the clearing.

"Out of the way, Arthur," he said in a cold voice. "Which of you did it? Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" Henry spoke up. My camouflage shield wavered a bit but I wasn't too worried about it. Everyone's focus seemed to be on Henry and his friends than on why a tree trunk in the dark was shimmering like a heat wave.

"We didn't do anything! What did you want to attack us for?" said the other boy. Ron, I think the name was.

"Do not lie, sir! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!" Mr. Crouch shouted at the three teenagers. Right away, I knew I had been right to hide from sight as I didn't want to be caught up in this. I couldn't believe that Mr. Crouch actually thought some kids could conjure one of the most notorious calling cards in history. And the next person to speak seemed to have come to this conclusion as well.

"Barty, they're kids. They'd never be able to -"

"Where did the Mark come from, you three?" the redheaded man asked. He was without a doubt Ron's father. There's no way that shade of hair wasn't hereditary.

"Over there. There was someone behind the trees... they shouted words - an incantation -" said the girl with curly brown hair. Hermione was what the redheaded man called her.

"Oh, stood over there, did they? Said an incantation, did they? You seem to be very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -" Mr. Crouch exclaimed a little too dramatically with his eyes popping out of his head. I could see even from a distance that no one other than Mr. Crouch believed Henry, Hermione, and Ron to be guilty. A few wizards had raised their wands to the direction Hermione had pointed and I strengthened my camouflage shield slightly.

"We're too late. They'll have Disapparated," one of the men said.

"I don't think so. Our stunners went right through those trees... There's a good chance we got them..." another man said as took a step in the direction of the fallen caster

"Amos, be careful!" a few of the other wizards warned the man with the scruffy brown beard.

He entered the clearing where the stunned figure lay. "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's - but - blimey..." Amos something or other yelled. I couldn't see who it was because of the angle of which I was situated but I held still while the man picked up the small boy and walked back towards the group.

"You've got someone? Who? Who is it?" Mr. Crouch yelled as he stepped forward to see for himself. Amos deposited the small body onto the ground. Once the light from the wands showed the castor's identity, Mr. Crouch sputtered his disbelief. "This - cannot - be - no -" On the ground at the man's feet lay an unconscious house-elf. To say everyone was surprised would be an understatement to say the least. Mr. Crouch took a few steps back, still stuttering jerkily. He stared at the elf for a few seconds before walking around Amos and into the clearing where I currently sat.

"No point, Mr. Crouch. There's no one else there."

I snapped my eyes shut and concentrated on pushing every bit of effort I had into strengthening the shield. I could hear Mr. Crouch mumbling to himself indistinctly as he pushed bushes apart searching for whoever he thought would be there. He came within two feet of me during which I held my breath as to not disturb the air molecules into shimmering in movement.

"Bit embarrassing. Barty Crouch's house-elf... I mean to say..."

"Come off it, Amos, you don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand." A point to which I completely agree.

"Yeah, and she had one."

"_What?_" I echoed the question in my mind. I didn't believe for a second that a house-elf was the one to conjure the Dark Mark.

"Here, look. Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. _No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand._"

Suddenly, at the most inconvenient time, my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I held as still as I could, hoping against hell that Crouch was so engulfed in his task that he wouldn't hear the minute vibrations of my phone. Luckily, there was a small pop as another person entered the clearing and successfully gained Crouch's attention.

"The Dark Mark! Who did it? Did you get them?" I recognized the voice as the commentator from the World Cup. Mr. Crouch seemed to have given up and walked back towards the others. "Barty! What's going on? Where have you been? Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat too - gulping gargoyles! What happened to her?"

"I have been busy, Ludo and my elf has been stunned," said Mr. Crouch curtly. I opened my eyes and saw his mustache was twitching in agitation. I let out the breath I was holding slowly.

"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why -?" Ludo Bagman continued. He looked up at the skull in the sky and apprehension dawned on his face. "_No!_ Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand, for a start!"

"And she had one. I found her holding one, Ludo. If it's alright with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she has to say for herself." Mr. Crouch didn't respond but looked towards his house-elf.

"_Ennervate!_" Amos shouted, pointing his wand at the unconscious elf. Once she was sitting up with her eyes open, she caught sight of the Dark Mark in the sky and gasped. Amos spoke again, though his tone had changed drastically. "Elf! Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures! As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago and you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you will!"

"I - I - I is not doing it, sir! I is not knowing how, sir!" the house-elf squeaked. As soon as I heard her high pitched voice, I knew she didn't do it. The voice I heard had been deep and low, nothing like the voice I was hearing now.

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" Amos said sternly, presenting the wand to her.

"Hey - that's mine!" Henry said suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Amos said, as though he couldn't hear what was being said.

"That's my wand! I dropped it!" Henry said.

"You dropped it? Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?" Someone get this man an award for the Dumbest Detective, please...

Completely off topic but I want to make an interesting point with a little advice: If you're ever about to do something... illegal, let's say... be sure to do something that is so ironic, people won't believe you did it. Therefore, you remain completely innocent in the eyes of the public. Don't believe me? Pretend that you knew for a fact that Henry Potter cast the Dark Mark and continue reading.

"Amos, think who you're talking to! Is _Henry Potter_ likely to conjure the Dark Mark?" Ron's father said.

"Er - of course not. Sorry... carried away..." Amos mumbled. Now see? If Henry had done it, no one would ever believe that the _savior_ of the wizarding world had conjured the most distinct symbol of evil. It's just so out of character for him. Pretty sweet huh? But anyways, onward with the actual events of what happened. And to clarify, ('cause not everyone is smart enough to figure this out for themselves... Just sayin'...) Henry didn't conjure the Dark Mark. Comprende?

"I didn't drop it there, anyway. I missed it right after we got into the wood," Henry said in his defense but by now, Amos was back to attacking the elf with questions.

"So, you found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and though you'd have some fun with it, did you?" he said accusingly.

"I is not doing magic with it, sir! I is... I is... I is just picking it up, sir!" the house-elf wailed. She was rocking back and forth. "I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"Well, we'll soon see. There's a simple was of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?" The elf shook her head. "_Prior Incantato!_" Out of the end on Henry's wand shot another large skull though this one was banished with another spell. "So..."

"I is not doing it! I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wands, I isn't knowing how!" the house-elf continued to cry her innocence. Tears were streaming down her face and she was still rocking back and forth.

"_You've been caught red-handed, elf! Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!_" Amos shouted.

"Amos, think about it... precious few wizards know how to do that spell... Where would she have learned it?" Ron's father cut in again. Ah, the voice of reason.

"Perhaps Amos is suggesting that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?" Mr. Crouch said, cold fury dripping from each syllable he uttered.

Amos looked horrified. "Mr. Crouch... not... not at all..."

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark! Henry Potter - and myself! I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?" Mr. Crouch barked at the stuttering man.

"Of course - everyone knows -" he was cut off.

"And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulging once more as he shouted at Amos. If I didn't know any better, I'd definitely label his current appearance as one belonging to a madman.

"Mr. Crouch, I - I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Amos said with embarrassment.

"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory! Where else would she have learned to conjure it?"

"She - she might've picked it up anywhere -"

"I - I is finding it... there, sir... there... in the trees, sir..." the house-elf suddenly cut in.

"You see, Amos? Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Henry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which would've betrayed them. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up," said the voice of reason, Ron's father.

"But then, she'd have been only feet away from the real culprit!" Amos said impatiently. "Elf? Did you see anyone?"

The house-elf gulped in fear. "I is seeing no one, sir... no one..."

"Amos," Mr. Crouch said while glaring at his elf. "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, to allow me to deal with her. You may rest assured that she will be punished." Silence met his request as nobody seemed to want to tell the enraged man no. "Winky has misbehaved tonight in a manner that I would have not believed possible. I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. _This means clothes..._"

"No! No, Master! Not clothes, not clothes!" Winky wailed loudly. She threw herself on the ground and was pounding her fists against the ground.

Hermione came to her rescue with an angry outburst. "But she was frightened! Your elf's scared of heights, and those wizards were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way!"

"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me." Again, his statement was met with silence though I could see Hermione glaring daggers at Mr. Crouch.

"Well, I think I'll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can - if Henry can have it back, please..." Ron's father said. "Come on, you three. Hermione!" he added sternly as the witch seemed to be rooted on the spot, still glaring at Crouch. Once she had started to leave with the others, I could hear her inquiring about what was going to happen to Winky. I have to admit, the girl has heart. She's definitely someone who stands against injustice with firm beliefs and a level head. Perhaps my brother isn't that much of an idiot if he chose her as a friend. Or maybe he just got lucky...

It was nearly twenty minutes before the clearing was empty of ministry officials and my head had started to pound, though whether this was from the alcohol or my elemental abilities being forced to keep a shield in place for more than a half hour, I'm not sure. Perhaps it was a combination of both but I'll just pretend it's from the alcohol and vow to never drink again. Just like I did the last time I had a hangover. Anyways, in that time, my phone had gone off six more times. I prayed each time that it was masked enough by my clothing to not register in anyone's minds as an odd sound to hear in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, everyone's attention was on Mr. Crouch and Amos Diggory discussing what had happened at the campsites.

Mr. Crouch's house-elf was still sitting on the ground, crying her eyes out and pleading with her master who was ignoring her pleas. It was a little hard to watch but there wasn't anything I could do about it. I couldn't just pop up and say that it wasn't Winky based on the fact that she didn't sound like the person I'd heard. The longer I stayed hidden from sight, the harder my sudden appearance would be to explain without effectively making myself a suspect in the case and I wasn't about to put my head on the chopping block.

Finally, everyone had cleared the area after it became obvious that the Dark Mark wasn't going to be banished by a few spells. I had read somewhere that once cast, the Dark Mark would linger until the sun came up. This appeared to be true as several people tried to make it go away somehow. Eventually they gave up and left with small pops and loud cracks. I lowered my shield and sat against the tree, taking deep breaths to help clear my head as I thought about everything I witnessed tonight. Without a doubt in my mind, I knew the masked bandits setting tents on fire were Death Eaters.

Over the years, I've heard many theories that Voldemort is still alive, that he's biding his time until he can regain control and wreak havoc once more. Some say that he was ripped from his body when he cast the killing curse on my brother and it rebounded on him. Others say that he's just a ghost. Me? I say that I believe in the possibility that he's still alive, though in what form, I can't say.

After Voldemort had gone, many of his followers claimed that they were bewitched so they could escape punishment. Others had claimed they were being forced or blackmailed to serve. Of course, more than half of Voldemort's followers ended up in prison or being sentenced to death but there were those who bought themselves innocence by renouncing that they had nothing to do with the Dark Lord and entered society as law abiding citizens. They were most likely the culprits of the destruction of the campgrounds but from what Crouch and Diggory had said after most people had gone, once the Dark Mark was cast, the Death Eaters fled. I'd be willing to bet my life the reason they left was because they feared that the Dark Lord had returned to seek justice on those who denied him. (Cue creepy, dramatic music!)

My phone began to vibrate once more, scaring me from the ghost story that played in my mind. I pulled it out quickly and saw that it was Gabrielle.

"Gab," I said.

"Harry," she replied in relief. "Thank Merlin! I was starting to get really worried. Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm not sure but I'm fine. Tell me where you are and I'll come to you."

"Over by the entrance to the stadium. The others are here too."

"Alright, on my way," I said standing up. I swayed a little bit but I managed to stay on my feet. This was definitely the alcohol that I was feeling. Nevertheless, I started walking in the direction that I guessed the stadium would be located. Gabrielle stayed on the phone, claiming that she wanted to make sure I was okay even if it was by hearing my voice to verify that I hadn't died along the way. You know, girls can be really odd at times.

The walk took more time than I had anticipated because I had been walking in the wrong direction for the first ten minutes. I made it to the stadium after nearly forty minutes; time I used to fill Gabrielle in on what happened in the woods. Like me, she didn't think the house-elf had anything to do with the Dark Mark. She figured the elf was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once I made it to the edge of the woods, I found the path that led to the stadium. The lanterns had been knocked down in places but otherwise remained lit. Gabrielle and our friends met me along the path. Gabrielle ran to me and literally choked me with a hug but I welcomed it. At first glance everyone looked okay but I knew they were still scared. We walked along the path, Gabrielle's hand gripped firmly in mine with no one speaking until we reached the campground.

Looking around, I could see tents still on fire with people desperately trying to tame the flames. Reporters were seen scavenging the area, asking questions and demanding statements from the workers arranging for emergency portkeys from the area. Many people were bleeding from various wounds they received from the Death Eaters and were being tended to by mediwizards stationed throughout the place. Gabrielle reached out to touch my arm, her eyes transfixed on a white sheet on the ground.

"Harry? He's not coming back is he?" She looked at me for an answer. I knew she thought this was a sign that Voldemort was back in action.

I shook my head and lied. "No. This was just an isolated incident from some rogue Death Eaters. I heard some people from the ministry say that once the Dark Mark was cast, all the Death Eaters took off. They were probably just trying to send a reminder to the world that they're still out there. There's nothing to worry about."

But there was. I didn't believe the words that came out of my mouth for a second, though Gabrielle seemed to accept the reasoning. I knew this wasn't just a random incident. This meant something that I had yet to figure out. I wish I could tell you that the attack by the Death Eaters and the appearance of the Dark Mark didn't worry me in the least bit, but this isn't a fairytale where everyone lives happily ever after. This is the kind of story where a monster is lurking in the dark, waiting to rip apart the happy little existence the world created.

**A/N: So here's the next chapter. Thanks to the few who reviewed. I really appreciate it! As always, your replies are in my profile.  
>I'll try to get the next chapter up by Monday but that's not a gaurantee. Please review!<br>And thanks to all who have added this story to their favorites. That's awesome.**


	5. The Aftermath of the World Cup

**Chapter 5: The Aftermath of the World Cup**

I apologize for the dramatic exit in my last post. Sometimes I use melodrama as a mask to cover emotions that I may be uncomfortable dealing with. In this instance, it was my fear that what I had been warned about by my mentor was starting to come true. Obviously you have no idea what I'm talking about so I invite you to listen to a story told by your favorite Uncle Harry. Technically you'd be reading the story but try not to get caught on that little fact.

When the poor not-really-orphaned-orphan named Harry Potter was taken in by the Flamels, he began to study magic with his mentor. Soon came the time for him to go to a school where other magical children would study spells and learn about the world they were born into. The first year was fine for the fraudulent orphan but soon rumors began to make their way to Nicolas Flamel's ear. The first being that the evil Dark Lord Voldemort was still wandering around the country, not entirely vanquished. Albus Dumbledore had kept this to himself for nearly ten years as to not bring fear to the newly happy public. For the first time in years, parents could let their children play outside past sunset and Dumbledore didn't want to shatter that security.

Now while he didn't want to upset the public, he certainly needed to bring this to the attention of Flamel, the only known creator of the Sorcerer's Stone. Now, this Stone is said to only exist in myths but almost six hundred years ago, Nicolas Flamel began to translate a text called the Emerald Tablet. This allowed him to know the secrets of alchemy: the transmutation of any metal into gold, creating new elements, and, of course, creating the elixir of life, which gave the drinker immortality.

As you can imagine, the elixir was vital to a wizard who wanted nothing more than immortality. Dumbledore warned Flamel that Voldemort would be after the stone in an effort to regain his body and his power. Both agreed that Dumbledore was the only wizard that Voldemort feared so the stone would be safe with him at Hogwarts. For my second year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, there was a constant worry that the stone would be stolen but Mr. Flamel assured me that Dumbledore could be trusted to hinder Voldemort any way that he could. As true as that may be, it didn't stop Voldemort from nearly gaining control of the legendary stone.

Dumbledore had stopped the attack but he knew that Voldemort would never stop trying to steal the stone so he demanded the stone be destroyed. He gave Mr. and Mrs. Flamel enough elixir to last one year, enough to get their affairs in order, before he destroyed the stone. Once I found out what had happened, I pressured my mentor into making a new Sorcerer's Stone but he explained that it was going to take more than a year as the last one nearly took him three years to create. I don't think I truly understood the gravity of the situation until Mrs. Flamel died.

It was nearly my thirteenth birthday and Mr. Flamel was at the Ministry talking to Perry Bodin about his 'affairs'. I was wandering through the house looking for something interesting to do when the next thing I remember is sitting in the hallway. I remember Mr. Flamel opening the door. I remember him kneeling next to me. I remember how he smelled when I buried my face in his cloak. I remember everything about that moment except why I was there. I know now that it was because I was in shock, discovering the body of a loved one who had died unexpectedly takes its toll on the human mind.

Mr. Flamel explained to me later that Mrs. Flamel had written us a letter stating that she was giving her husband her 'rations of the elixir'. She said that I needed more time with my mentor if I was going to survive the next war. At the time I didn't know what she meant. All I knew was that the only woman to have ever shown me love was never coming back and I blamed Dumbledore for that.

Over the next two years, I pushed myself into my alchemy studies, trying everything I could to create the Sorcerer's Stone. I knew life without Mrs. Flamel and that was hard enough without having to face the possibility of living a life without my mentor too. It was just so impossible to imagine.

Though I didn't succeed in creating the Sorcerer's Stone, I had created a way of harnessing the elements into a medium, which was what I thought needed to be done with the stone. Instead, I had created the Shadowspeare. My mentor was so impressed that he pushed me into experimenting with the elements separately. What resulted was the Firebolt. I still remember the look of amazement on his face as he told me this was what alchemy was for; to contain the elements for their raw power.

He pushed me to produce more of them while he spoke with Perry about forming a business for the brooms and a few months later, he died, having run out of elixir to maintain his life. Suddenly my life was turned upside down and I had no idea what to do. Perry Bodin sat me down to discuss the new life I was given. Mr. Flamel had been working hard to ensure that I would be emancipated after his death and had made Perry promise to keep me working hard on the brooms that he described as the best alchemy milestone since forming the stone. I didn't care about any of this.

Now that I was emancipated, that meant that I was a legal adult. I've had quite a few nights at St. Mungo's for pub fights after I had too much to drink and several charges of Improper Use of Magic. Perry put up with a lot from me and kept me from being in too much trouble.

Anyways, I've digressed. I tend to do that when I start reminiscing. I apologize so let's get back on track.

Mr. Flamel had warned me that Voldemort was going to rise again and that I was going to have to deal with the war that followed. He didn't know how but for whatever reason, Voldemort attacked the Potter's on Halloween night with death on his mind. Somehow, that backfired on him and got me to my current position of sitting with Gabrielle on the couch of my apartment. She was sleeping with my arms around her, content with my lies that Voldemort wasn't coming back.

Mr. Delacour had brought us back here after retrieving my wand and other belongings from the now demolished tent. Our friends had gone home to their hysterical families while Gabrielle and I found her father. He was relieved to see us and we hurried to my apartment. He kissed his daughter before he Apparated back to the aftermath of the World Cup. I tightened my grip on Gabrielle as I thought of everything that had occurred that night, much of it not making sense.

For one thing, the house-elf was not the one who cast the Dark Mark yet she had the wand that it came from. Did this mean that she saw who actually cast it or was she just unfortunate enough to pick up it up once it was tossed aside?

Another thing I wondered about was why the Death Eater's chose the World Cup to make an appearance and then flee once their former master's sign was cast into the sky. None of it was making the least bit of sense and it was starting to give me a headache thinking about it. On second thought, the headache is from the alcohol but regardless of that, the events that took place after the World Cup were going to have to wait until I didn't have a hangover.

You know, looking back on what I just wrote, I've decided there's way too much seriousness. I'd tell you another story about my upbringing but I've had enough talk of my guardians to last for the next couple entries of this assignment. We can't make small talk because, well, that requires talking and as I'm sure I'd be able to find a charm somewhere that would enable this scenario, once again, my hangover has declined the work involved. I guess you'll just have to deal with my day-to-day dealings as a form of entertainment. No worries though, I promise to throw in some amusing and witty banter. Hell, maybe even a joke or two, though I warn you, I'm terrible at telling them. Anyways, onward dear traveller! My life awaits you!

I had fallen asleep on the couch with Gabrielle but when I woke up, she wasn't there with me. I thought this was a little odd as I'm one of the lightest sleepers to ever grace the Earth. Usually I wake up at the slightest movement or sound that interrupted the normal patterns of my sleeping state. I didn't think about it too much though as anything strange or out of the ordinary after a night of drinking can be chalked up to the alcohol. For example, if a Muggle were to drunkenly walk home from a pub and see an equally drunken wizard, namely me, flying around on a broom, the Muggle would more than likely be convinced that he just had one of the best nights of his life and never think about what he just saw again. The worst case scenario would be the wizard getting charged with Improper Use of Magic and the Muggle being Obliviated. In my defense, I still claim that I wasn't using magic, it was clearly the broom's fault that magic was being displayed but this was the slap-on-the-wrist charge that the Ministry put on my record out of respect for Perry Bodin.

I've really got to stop with the drinking as I think this is the third time I've gotten off track but I'm not sure and I'm too lazy to go back to actually count my deviations.

So like I was saying, alcohol and seeing strange things pretty much go hand in hand. When I woke up to being alone, I paid attention to it enough to be polite before dismissing it and heading upstairs. Gabrielle was most likely cleaning, which was what she did when she was stressed out. I found her in my bedroom closet rearranging everything on the shelves and hangers.

"Good morning gorgeous," I said. She smiled slightly but I could see the worry in her eyes. "You don't have to do that you know."

"I do but you know what they say about idle hands."

I shook my head and went into the bathroom to shower quickly. Feeling better once I was done, I went back to the closet with a towel wrapped around my waist, passing Gabrielle reading the morning paper on my bed. I searched in vain for my favorite pants before I gave up.

"Where are my pants?" I asked.

"Which pair?"

"My favorite pair," I replied.

"Out here on the bed," she said.

I rolled my eyes, put on a pair of underwear, and went out to my bed where the jeans-thief was laying. She had laid out an outfit for me and instead of arguing with her that I was old enough to do this myself, I put on everything she had picked out. And before you get any ideas, I wasn't naked in front of a girl. I had on boxer-briefs which is no different than wearing a bathing suit as it shows the same amount of skin. Besides, Gabrielle had her backed turned so shame on you for getting that idea.

"There's an article on the World Cup," Gabrielle said rolling over to show me. On the front page there was a picture of the Dark Mark with a bold heading. I didn't need to read the article to know that the reporter had said that a house-elf was to blame for the Dark Mark and that the Death Eaters weren't acting on orders from the Dark Lord. I promise you that the media these days is very predictable.

I took the paper from her hands and pulled her up, noticing briefly that she had changed into fresh clothes. She gave me a questioning look but kept her hand in mine. As we walked downstairs and to the fireplace I explained to her that I hadn't gone school shopping yet. She rolled her eyes and muttered lightly enough for me to have to guess that it wasn't nice.

We threw down handfuls of the floo powder, stepped into the now lime green flames and yelled our destination. Immediately, the fire swirled up around us in a spinning rush. I could see Gabrielle had closed her eyes but I kept mine open. Other fireplace grates were rushing past but much too quickly to be identified. Soon we came to a halt in a fireplace less than ten seconds after we started our journey. The sign in the window of the shop read _Flourish's_ and in the area cleared around the fireplace were armchairs of every size. Past the chairs were shelves of books lined up perfectly.

"What do you need to get?" Gabrielle asked.

"Specifically, Advanced Magical Drafts and Potions, Magical Theory 9th Edition and Advanced Book of Spells Grade 1. Then whatever I find for Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense," I said.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes again and grabbed a basket from the stack next to the fireplace, which I take note of being a fire hazard. We began with the books I knew that I needed before we went to the Charms section of the shop. I skimmed the shelves reading titles like _Charms for Everyday Use_ and _Garden Charms_. I picked up a book called _Charming with Charms_ and let it fall open at the spine. I looked at it in mild disgust and annoyance. Its times like these that really make me wish that I wasn't so far ahead of the standard curriculum at the Academy. Then I wouldn't have to have Independent Study and all my books would be picked out for me.

I looked over at Gabrielle, who had a stack of books next to her on a small table. From the looks of things, she was having a much better time finding decent books that I was. I sorted through the pile of books and was intrigued by several of them. After I ended up putting An Anthology of Modern Charms, Charming for Defense, and the Expert's Guide to Mastering Charms into the basket, I was glad they were _charmed_ to be weightless. And yes, that was kind of punny.

We walked over to the Defense section of the bookstore, which was the easiest selection to pick from as I picked out the entire Encyclopedia of Defensive Magic from the Dark Arts. The set contained three books that promised only the best of the best would be able to master all of the spells and techniques used in the books. Challenge accepted.

The last stop on our quest for my reading material was the Transfiguration section, which turned out to be a joke. Out of the hundreds of books housed here, not one of them was up to par with what I needed, and that was Gabrielle's opinion. We gave up looking for an adequate book and paid for my purchases. Stepping out into the sunny afternoon, the crowd was heavy. Shoppers were carrying bags of every size and color, owls swooping in and out of the post office down the street and cafes were displaying menus with a coupling of delicious scents. One advertisement in particular caught Gabrielle's attention.

"Ooohh! Blueberry-lavender ice cream! Can we get some? Please?" she asked with a smile that I couldn't say no to even though lavender ice cream didn't sound even remotely delicious. Instead I ordered an apricot tart and sat at the table overlooking the crowd. We ate in silence for a moment before Gabrielle asked me a question that threw me off guard.

"You were lying about Voldemort coming back weren't you?" I coughed on the piece of tart I had been chewing and looked at her. "I could tell by the look in your eyes."

I swallowed slowly before I nodded. "We were warned about this before he died."

"But what do you believe?" she asked.

"I believe that we don't know the whole story about what happened in Godric's Hollow and this is why it's possible for Voldemort to come back."

Gabrielle nodded and sat in silence, contemplating my explanation. I knew that she held my opinion in the highest regards that she had and more than likely, she was figuring out how to help in some way. Honestly, I knew that more happened the night Voldemort attacked the Potter home but I didn't know how to get that information. On more than one occasion, I tried using my Elemental abilities to uncover the secret but it eluded me.

"So what are we going to do?"

"Well, I still have to get my uniforms and the rest of the supplies but if you-" Gabrielle cut me off before I could finish.

"Not about that! About what happened in Godric's Hollow. How are we going to find out what happened? Whether I like it or not, you're a part of this and whether you like it or not, I'm helping you."

I knew that whatever I said she was going to ignore so I shrugged my shoulders. "What can we do?"

We had reached a mutual confusion about the situation so I figured we should address it later. We finished up our snack before we carried on the shopping trip, making light conversation with me occasionally teasing Gabrielle by levitating small pieces of her hair. We entered the robe shop to get the formal robes our lists stated that we needed. I thought this was odd, given the school didn't enforce the uniform code unless there were special occasions. Personally, I didn't care what the circumstance was. There was absolutely no excuse for making the formal robes out of light blue silk. Maybe for the girls but how manly can you be wearing silk? I ranted and raved but in the end, there was no way out of buying the stupid things but I swore that I wasn't going to wear the dreadful things.

We concluded our shopping trip once I had purchased the potions supplies most used in my Potions book. Everything else could be ordered once I used it so that it didn't spoil as I didn't feel like having to deal with rancid frog bile. Gabrielle and I made our way back to Flourish's and hopped into the fireplace. Once we made it back to my apartment, my purchases were banished to my school truck with a wave of my wand. I think that's my favorite thing about being a legal adult, the ability to use magic outside of school, which is forbidden for underage students. Of course I'd rather have my guardians back but I'm past the bargaining stage of my grief. Currently, I reside in the anger stage with no signs of moving, which is perfectly fine with me.

I fell onto the couch with Gabrielle cuddling into my chest next to me. I stroked her soft hair before I fell asleep from the residual effects of my hangover. Damn you alcohol.

**A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. Your replies are in my profile. I hope you liked this chapter, not very exciting but not every day in someone's life if action packed. Anyways, the next chapter will be up soon. :)  
>Also, I'm still looking for a beta so if you spot a mistake, let me know so I can fix it. If you're interested in betaing, message me! Thanks again!<strong>


	6. Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

**Chapter 6: Beauxbatons Academy of Magic**

I'm absolutely dreading today. I don't want to do any of this but I have no choice. I made a promise and I have to go through with it but I really don't want this anymore. I have too much that needs to be done and barely half enough time to do it all. It feels like I'm close to snapping on the next person to ask me for anything. I can't even count how many times I've sighed out of frustration.

Alright, I'm done. No more feeling sorry for myself or complaining. I've got things to do and I'll be damned if I'm the only thing that stops me from finishing my work. I sighed once more and picked up my wand from the long production line. In front of me were the fifty inner shells of the cores for EBI's special edition broom: the Emberbolt. I had already finished enough of the Thunderbolt cores to cover the pre-orders and an estimate on sales after its release and only three of the Emberbolt cores. I had been working nearly eighteen hours for the past three days and with as much Elemental magic I had been using, I was close to exhaustion but I knew I couldn't stop. I had already missed my train for Beauxbatons an hour earlier so I knew I only had about seven hours to complete as many of the cores as I could. I wouldn't have much time to seal them at school. I had come this far with only a few more feet left but it definitely felt like the longest yard.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on pulling the molecules in the air closer to each other until they were nearly touching. I continued to pull the molecules into a cube around the empty shell that was in front of me. After a moment, I pushed the effort of the shield to the back of my mind and opened my eyes. Reaching out my hand I could feel the shield bending around my hand. I pushed against it as hard as I could, feeling a tugging in the back of my head as I subconsciously added more power to the shield. Satisfied it would hold against pressure, I raised my wand and focused on the element of fire. I was picturing a small flame and began to feed it more energy. The small flame grew in size until it was a raging inferno.

I pointed my wand towards the titanium rod, keeping the blazing triangle in mind. At the top of the metal cylinder was a small hole that had started to glow once my wand was turned towards it. I could feel the temperature in the room begin to rise slightly as the glowing of the rod began to spread downward from the hole. Soon the entire rod was the bright orange color of embers in a fireplace so I pushed more energy into the shield as the temperature rose steadily. I pushed the image from my mind into the cube around the core. Flames began to erupt inside the shield and once the image of the inferno in my mind was entirely forced into the shielded area, it blazed with a fierce intensity around the core of the broom.

The alchemical symbol for fire was an upward pointing triangle so I cast a series of banishing charms that pushed the flames from a wild mass of fire into its rudimentary shape. The blaze had now become a solid mass of flames shaped like a triangle. I pulled the shield to the front of my mind and began releasing small amounts of the molecules while pulling the remaining ones tighter to each other until the shield was wrapped around the firm triangle. The molecules that were released only added to the dismal heat in the room as they had become heated from the fire in the shield. Sweat was rolling down my forehead, making me slightly uncomfortable so I hurried the finale.

I pulled the shield of air tighter around the fire until it was the size of the hole in the core. By now, I could see it move like it was made of liquid but it felt solid to my magic. I levitated the triangular mass towards the core and placed it in the hole. Inside the rod was a weaving of containment charms to help keep the element intact and cooling charms that made the outside of the rode cold while the inside remained sweltering. I moved the fiery figure towards the bottom of the still red-hot rod and picked up the lid with my free hand. I placed the lid of the core on top of the hole as quickly as I could to avoid burning my skin. As soon as the lid was on, it began to mold to the shape of the now cooling core. After the titanium had cooled back to its original silvery color and was completely smooth near the seal of the lid, I released the levitation charm on the elemental center. The core began to vibrate as the inferno was released from its shape and moved freely inside the shell.

I picked up the Emberbolt core after it stopped shaking. I could feel the cool metal on my skin but underneath the titanium, there was a movement that felt like water being pushed through pipes. I looked over the core to make sure it was sealed entirely before weaving more containment charms around the outside. The entire process took me just over nineteen minutes and with the amount of time I was working with, I could get twenty four done before I had to get to school for the Welcoming Feast.

I set aside the finished core and moved on to an empty one, resuming my task quickly. Gabrielle had packed my trunk a few days ago knowing that I wouldn't have much time to get it done with everything else that needed my attention. I didn't even have much time to spend with her after our shopping trip but amazingly, she understood what I had to do. So note to self: Apologize to Gabrielle for being such a prat and thank her for putting up with your selfish arse.

I wasn't really looking forward to going to school this year but I had promised my guardian that I would finish school no matter what happened. Life's a game but in no way is it fair so I had given thought to taking a year off as I was far enough ahead with the curriculum to warrant me graduating with my class but I knew the Minister would kill me just as quickly as Gabrielle. A year without the pressure of school would make my life a lot easier but I knew if I bent the rules to the game instead of breaking them, I could even the playing field so I planned on skipping a lot of classes.

Speaking of classes, Gabrielle had looked into helping me remember what happened in Godric's Hollow. I know that had nothing to do with classes but I haven't even started school yet so I'm pretty much over talking about classes and the like. So let's get back to the story at hand.

Gabrielle had spent her free time researching in the Delacour family library while I was here making broom cores. She had come up with a few theories and made a list of what she thought would be most effective as we were both curious what Voldemort actually did that night. Personally, I wanted to know what made Henry so much better than me and why I had to be thrown out like last week's rubbish. I also needed to know why Dumbledore feared that Voldemort could return and why my guardian thought it had something to do with me.

I continued packaging the broom cores with their element for nearly the entire seven hours it took the Beauxbatons train to get to Marseilles with the stops it needed to make at various stations to pick up students. By the time I was finished, I was completely exhausted but I didn't have time to go to sleep. The train would be arriving at the school within a half hour so I needed to shower as I'm pretty sure I smelled like dragon dung. I Apparated to my apartment from EBI's production factory (which was really just a separate apartment in the more rural areas of Paris) and hurried upstairs to take a quick shower. I made sure to make it long enough so that I didn't smell like I had crawled in manure before I spelled myself dry and threw on some clothes. I slipped on my black robe over my jeans and shirt then I checked the time. I had about seven minutes to make it to the train station before students began to get into the school.

I jumped into my shoes and didn't bother to tie them. Grabbing my wand, I Apparated to the edge of the train stations wards, which was about a mile from the actual station, and then I ran. I kept running as fast as I could until there was a sharp pain in my side. Eventually I could see the long black train pulling up to the station and let out a loud screeching whistle. I slowed down to a brisk walk and tried to catch my breath as students began to shuffle off of the train. An announcement was aired over the stations speaker system that asked all students to meet in dining hall for the Welcoming Feast.

"HARRY!" I looked towards the source of the voice and saw Gabrielle standing on a bench near the front of the train, waving me over. I pushed my way through the crowd of students towards her. Once I got within ten feet, she jumped off the bench and pulled me into a firm hug. She pushed her head into my chest as my arms went around her hips. She smelled like the lilac shampoo she uses so I breathed in deeply, already feeling at ease from my stress.

"Alright you love birds, break it up," Margaux cut in as Gabrielle released me and laughed.

"Don't be jealous," she warned her friend jokingly.

Adrian and Damien walked up behind Margaux and smiled. I smiled back at them before we all began the short walk towards the dining hall with the rest of the students chattering away to their friends. I looked up towards the Academy and all doubts of returning were slightly washed away. The palace that housed Beauxbatons was lit up by glittering lights it each of the hundreds of windows. The light colored stone shone brightly near the bottom of the palace where light posts illuminated the walkways for students. From my current position, the light posts shone brightly but I knew that they held dozens of tiny glowing fairies flying about the glass.

When I first arrived at Beauxbatons, I thought it was cruel to keep the fairies locked away like that but once I read about the history of the castle, I found out that the bottom of the posts were kept open to allow fairies to come and go. Being mainly nocturnal, the radiant fairies were attracted to the nectar kept inside the glass. This made it possible to keep the fairy colony thriving at Beauxbatons and allowed a natural light source to the already majestic school.

Gabrielle looked closely at the fairy lights, making their flight patterns dance in her blue eyes. I smiled at her as she looked into my eyes and pulled her under my arm. We continued to walk with the students for a few moments before we entered the dining hall. Looking around, I noticed more glass containers that held the tiny fairies, a chorus of wood nymphs, and plenty of other décor that normally was reserved for more formal occasions.

I could hear the chatter of the students turning towards the decorations and wondered if this had anything to do with the horrible looking formal robes we were required to buy. Another note to self: Burn the ugly ball of silk and figure out who the hell came up with that idea. Then burn them too.

Sitting down at one of the long tables, I continued to look around the hall while Gabrielle and Margaux were whispering to each other. They started laughing so I figured it was more than likely something about me; probably what I would look like dressed in a blue silk robe. I ignored them as Adrian and Damien sat across from us at the table. They were discussing the outcome of the World Cup with a boy I wasn't really familiar with so I turned in my seat and looked out the window. I could see tiny balls of light zooming to the light posts and towards the trees that sat about the grounds of Beauxbatons. From the atmosphere of the hall, I could tell students were excited and confused.

A door at the end of the hall opened and at once, every student in the hall stopped talking and stood up. A line of professors walked in and stood behind chairs at a long table placed perpendicular to the ones the students were at. At the very end of the line was the tallest woman I had ever known in my life, Madame Maxime. She's a half-giant so I wasn't lying if you happened to think that. Today was she wearing a robe made of the same blue silk that my formal robes were made of, which made her the culprit of the terrible idea. Damn you woman.

Once Madame Maxime had reached her seat in the center of the head table, she raised a hand that was the size of a watermelon and motioned for everyone to take a seat.

"Welcome!" she called out across the enormous dining hall. "We have many announcements but I believe that a Welcoming Feast is in order for our new students. Those of you that are first experiencing Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, I welcome you to the most prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry and invite you to bestow honor, both on your name and our wonderful school, for many years to come. Enjoy!"

With those final words, the Welcoming Feast had begun. Platters of food at magically appeared on the tables and students started piling food onto their golden plates. There were baskets of fresh baguettes and bowls full of different soups. I reached for a platter of Salade Lyonnaise, which was just a salad with bacon and a sliced poached egg. French food tends to sound a lot more exotic than it really is. I put some of the salad on my plate followed by a chunk of baguette. I scooped some bouillabaisse, which is a fish stew with a variety of vegetables in it.

I ate my food quietly as my exhaustion from my work earlier was setting in at a heavy pace. I hoped everyone would finish quickly otherwise I planned on sleeping on a baguette. My eyes started to stay closed for longer periods of time each time I blinked my eyes so I forced my eyes open wide. Gabrielle laughed at the face I was making but I couldn't help it. I was dead tired.

Thankfully, Madame Maxime stood up once more and called the feast to an end. Maybe I wouldn't burn her for the robes afterall, as I was grateful for the end of the feast. She raised her beast of a hand and students immediately quieted.

"I once again welcome our new students but we have several things to announce before you may be dismissed.I regret to inform you that our Quidditch Tournament will not be taking place this year." As soon as I heard those words, Madame Maxime found her way back on my burn list. Students around the hall began to protest but the headmistress held out her hand, quieting their objections.

"Instead, we will be participating in one of the most historical competitions among European schools. I am pleased to announce that this year, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic will be participating in the Triwizard Tournament!" Madame Maxime said proudly. I snapped my eyes open and looked at her to make sure I had heard correctly as the Tournament she talked about was discontinued in 1792 when the death toll became too high. I could see many students mirroring my thoughts as we waited for the headmistress to continue.

"The Tournament was established seven hundred years ago…" Blah blah blah. I tuned out the rest of the speech as it was pretty standard. Hell, I could've summed it up in two minutes. Three schools compete in a competition that tests the courage, intelligence, and magical ability. Each school has one student that is representative of them to participate in three tasks that are extremely dangerous. I believe the death toll had reached over hundred before it was discontinued from its risks.

"-Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Damn. What the hell did I miss? "Delegates from Durmstrang Institute and our own selections will travel to Hogwarts in October with the Champion Naming Ceremony taking place on Halloween. As we currently have nearly a thousand students in attendance at the Academy, we will be choosing our representatives based on educational and personal merit. You will be informed if you have been selected as a Champion contender in late October."

I once again tuned out the rest of this speech as I had a million thoughts running through my head. My first was that Albus Dumbledore was currently the headmaster of Hogwarts. The second was there was no doubt in my mind that I would be chosen by Madame Maxime to compete in the Tournament. This posed quite a few problems for me and I knew my life had just gotten all the more complicated. I was snapped out of my thoughts as the students in the hall stood up and started exiting the hall. Gabrielle and I made our way up to the sixth floor of the dormitories. I found my room by the name plate that adorned the door and opened the door with Gabrielle following me. Inside my room were the belongings that Gabrielle had packed for me and a large platform bed. I threw myself down onto the firm mattress out of exhaustion and frustration. Gabrielle plopped down next to me, silently understanding my current predicament.

I really hate being me sometimes.

**A/N: Hope you guys like this chapter! The next chapter is the only one before Beauxbatons goes to Hogwarts and the champions are chosen. Thanks to everyone who submitted a review. They are greatly appreciated! **


	7. Hogwarts and Durmstrang

**The Phoenix Chronicles: Goblet of Fire**  
><strong>Chapter 7: Hogwarts and Durmstrang<strong>

I've started this wonderful chapter so many times and in so many ways. Once it started with my wonderfully premeditated list of ways to end up in Azkaban because let's face it, if I were to ever come face to face with Albus Dumbledore, a life sentence in prison would surely be the only outcome foreseeable. Another time my writing reflected the pity party I was throwing myself and ended up sounding like I was about to drown myself in a cauldron. Those pages quickly ended up in the fireplace as that would just be the icing on the cake if Gabrielle were to find them and have me committed to St. Bernadette's for a mental evaluation and possible suicide watch. But alas dear reader, I have managed to tone down the teenage angst and decided sarcasm is the best outlet for my state of mind. Or maybe explosions, I haven't really decided.

Anyway, after the revelation of the Triwizard Tournament, the exhaustion of working on the broom cores finally set in and I fell asleep with Gabrielle in my bed after only a few moments of my future problems festering in my mind and woke up to Gabrielle straddling my waist. I opened my eyes to see her staring down at me with her long blond hair falling around her face. I could barely register the stringy top she had on before she leaned closer to me, placing her hands on my chest and kissed my forehead. I placed my hands on her hips and squeezed slightly while her light kisses trailed down the side of my face and to my ear.

"Harry," she breathed into my ear. "I want to do it with you." My skin prickled as she kissed her way down my neck. "I want to make your heart beat fast-" she kissed my collarbone, "and hard-" I felt her lips on my chest, "I want you out of breath." I couldn't stop her as everything she was doing was so intoxicating but I knew that this wasn't the time for us, she deserved more respect than this. I pulled my hands off her hips and grabbed hers, which were travelling down my sides as she sat up and looked into my eyes.

"Gabri-" I started but was cut off from speaking further when she leaned back down and grabbed my ear lobe with her teeth while gently flicked her tongue across my skin. I let out a moan as she continued her sensual assault on my ear. I released her hands while mine found their way up the back of her top and stroked her back.

"Don't you want to get all hot and sweaty Harry? It'll make you feel better," she said once she released my ear.

I let out a slight groan as she sat up, leaning on my chest once more. She certainly wasn't making this easy as she stared at me, the ends of her soft hair skimming my bare chest. There was a small smile tugging on her lips making her look even more gorgeous than I had ever seen her. How could I say no to her? Did I even want to?

"Come on Harry, let's go for a run."

The world came crashing down as I stared at the smiling girl sitting on my waist. She giggled at the look on my face and that's when I figured it out: she had only been teasing me. Someone get this girl an award for best performance followed by a prison sentence for crimes against humanity. I gently pushed Gabrielle off me as I sat up, glaring at her, which only made her laugh more. I got off the bed and rummaged through my dresser for the clothes I needed and changed in the bathroom. When I came out, Gabrielle was tying her long hair back into some kind of twist with a smile still gracing her face. I gave her only a moment's notice once my shoes were on before I ran out the door and down the hall of the dormitory.

It took Gabrielle a few moments to catch up to me and when she did, we were on the grounds of the Academy, passing students on their way to class. We ran to the edge of the grounds and cut through the trees for nearly fifty feet before stepping on the hidden trail that runs through the wooded area behind Beauxbatons. Gabrielle and I kept pace for nearly three miles until we reached my little strip of paradise: the réserve naturelle. This particular nature reserve had a small cove that was blocked off from the lake by large rocks and trees. This is one of my favorite places due to remote location, both from Beauxbatons and the rest of the reserve. A few times in the past I've used this cove as a testing site for harnessing the element of water and Gabrielle is the only person I've shown it to.

And yes, I am aware that a nature reserve is considered protected land and that technically, we were trespassing, but since I'm not the most law-abiding citizen we'll try to ignore that little fact. Back to the story.

My beautiful partner-in-crime and I stopped running just as our feet hit the rocks and watched the waves sliding up the shore below us, slowly catching our breaths. We pulled our shirts over our heads and kicked off our shoes before I pulled Gabrielle on my shoulder and ran to the edge. She laughed and screamed, pretending not to know what was about to happen.

"HARRY! WHAT'RE YOU DOING?" she yelled.

"PAYBACK!"

I hit the edge of the rock and jumped out as far as I could. Gabrielle let out a scream as we fell from our perch. I hit the water before Gabrielle and swam down as far as I could until my chest started to burn, alerting me that if I cared to live I should probably return to the surface. Gabrielle was fifteen feet from me when my head poked out of the water. What follows is the typical water... frolicking? Can I use that word without losing my masculinity? Regardless, that is indeed what ensued. Water frolicking and laughs galore. We were laying on the shore when the dreaded topic of the Tournament was brought up.

"Everything is going to be okay. You know that right?" I opened my eyes at her statement and stared at a bird flying overhead.

"Is it?"

"Of course it is. Just because Madame Maxime chooses you doesn't mean you have to enter."

I glanced at her, she had rolled onto her side and was leaning on her elbow. Her hair hung in damp waves and her eyes stared into mine. That wasn't the first reason on my list of why the Tournament should have never been reinstated but it was something I had considered. I love a good competition as much as the next guy but was I willing to put my life on the line for a golden cup and the same amount of galleons that I already earned in less than a week? Hell no. Besides that fact, I like my anonymity too much to give that up for the fame that surrounds the Tournament like flies on dung.

The main reason for my reserved attitude was the man with too many middle names: Albus Dumbledore. In case you have forgotten, he is the very reason that I have no guardians. By destroying the Sorcerer's Stone to hinder any further attempts to steal it, he had also taken away the only love I could ever remember. My hatred for the man hadn't cooled in the slightest. If anything, it had gained momentum as there was always a time when I wished for the guidance and security of the Flamels. I had buried my grief but it always had a way of uncovering itself. I wasn't lying when I said there was a list of ways I'd end up in Azkaban because of Dumbledore.

Once I expressed this to Gabrielle it was like a dam had been broken and everything that bothered me about the Tournament came flooding out. One moment I was making death threats against Dumbledore and the next I was expressing my worry over my secrets being exposed (think EBI and my true identity).

Another reason, though I would never admit it to anyone, was the fact that my brother was a student at Hogwarts. I'm not sure what I would do or say to the physical epitome for why I had been abandoned. All I knew was that I was not ready to find out. You can call me a coward but unless you were given up by your parents, take your judgment elsewhere.

Gabrielle took it everything in stride; agreeing with me when prompted, sympathizing when necessary, and comforting when all else failed. Eventually, my pity party of one died down and we laid on the sand staring at the few clouds passing over us. The one bit of advice she offered me? "Let's worry about that bridge when it comes time to cross it." I'm sure that's one of her many 'my grandmother used to say' phrases but how very true it was in this situation.

What happened next is rather irrelevant so allow me to give you the abridged version. We attended class, completed homework, did all the usual school things and soon brought about the day the contenders for the death race- er- Tournament were selected and wouldn't you know it? My name was first on the list. Did you think I was kidding when I said I was first in my class? Believe me, my ego is well earned.

Gabrielle and Margaux were also selected along with a dozen or so other students. From that day forward, our classmates went out of their way to congratulate the chosen, which did nothing to lighten my mood. Oh hooray! We have our cattle lined up and waiting to be selected for slaughter. Only the best piece of meat will be served on a silver platter for the entertainment of the wizarding world! Know this description is morbid but accurate and for that, I'm sorry.

That's what filled my oh so wonderful life for the remaining weeks at Beauxbatons so let's fast forward to my current state of affairs: the journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in a giant blue carriage pulled along by flying Palomino horses the size of elephants.

Having crossed the English Channel an hour ago, I figure we must be approaching our destination soon, though I wasn't sure of Hogwarts' exact location as it had been rendered Unplottable by those pesky paranoid wizards and their secrecy spells. From what I've read, however, Hogwarts is located somewhere in Scotland.

Gabrielle was sitting across from me in a large armchair with Margaux on the floor twirling her hair between her fingers. Both were reading the latest copy of Witch Weekly, the cover boasting over one hundred beauty and fashion spells that were guaranteed to charm him! Gabrielle had already tried number forty-seven, a charm that left her hair in long curls, though she reversed the spell an hour into our trip after she figured out I had been staring at her since we left school. Since the carriage we were travelling in had been enlarged, each of us were given our own "suites". As we were currently occupying mine, the room reflected my simplistic taste in decor.

Gabrielle and Margaux were dressed in the formal, though utterly insulting and stupid, school robes we were required to buy at the start of year for reasons that no one can bear to ponder. Our regular school uniform would have sufficed but not with wizards. The rule of thumb is to throw all practicality out of the window and dress to impress. Nevermind the fact that all of us will probably freeze to death in the frigid air of the mountains that Hogwarts is rumored to be located near. Nevermind the fact that nearly ninety-six percent of the students who bought the robes would have no need for them now that they were safe from the draft of the Tournament. Nevermind the fact that I would soon be dressed like a bloody wanker. And that's the most important fact to consider. Afterall, how exactly am I supposed to imform you of the moving tale of Harry Phoenix, a misunderstood loner and Elemental extraordinaire who rescues (and occasionally needs saving from) damsels in distress (Gabrielle) while documenting his teenage angst (powder blue robes)?

"Harry, did you hear me?"

I looked towards Gabrielle from my seat near the window as Margaux sat up, both witches sat staring at me. What did I miss?

"I said we better start getting ready. Madame Maxime said we should be there in five minutes." I glanced out the window once more but saw nothing other than the foggy mass of clouds floating past as we soared through the sky. Grudgingly, I walked over to my bed and grabbed the formal uniform robes and head off to change as I had refused to wear the bloody things longer than necessary. That was a wonderful stand off between Madame Maxime and I. She, demanding I wear the uniform with the rest of the students and I, stating that I would rather be expelled than wear the tragedy she had picked out. It came to an end only when Gabrielle had promised I would be wearing the uniform once we arrived at Hogwarts.

I walked back into my room and grabbed Gabrielle by the hand, ignoring the smile on her face and the anticipation building in my stomach. We walked to the front of the carriage with Margaux and lined up with the rest of our classmates. Madame Maxime arrived a moment later, dressed in black satin, and began her speech, once more reminding each of us to represent the school with our best behavior, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. It ended with the threat of death if rules were not followed. Just kidding about the death part.

A moment after her speech ended, we all took seats around the lounge room for the landing. The carriage swooped one way and the next, losing altitude quickly and raising my anxiety just as quick. With a sudden jolt, the carriage hit the ground and skidded to a halt. Well, here goes nothing... I wonder if Azkaban has a visitors policy.

**A/N: Better late than never right? Don't worry, the wait for the next chapter will be _much_ shorter than this one was. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I appreciate them more than I can say! **


	8. The Goblet of Fire

**The Phoenix Chronicles: Goblet of Fire**  
><strong>Chapter 8: The Goblet of Fire<strong>

The air within the carriage was still and silent. An anonymous boy jumped up from his seat the moment the carriage had stopped moving but no one else seemed eager to move after our abrupt landing. The nameless boy fiddled with the door handle and pushed it up. He was met by a wave of frigid air crashing into the lounge. Girls let out pathetic shrieks of surprise as if they had never been met with such weather. I rolled my eyes in disgust, both at their behavior and at the dreadful blue silk robes that I was wearing. Clearly Madame Maxime wanted to take our school out of the tournament by letting us all contract pneumonia and frostbite. I felt as if there was an iceberg floating in my stomach though if that was from the anxiety or from the cold air I couldn't tell.

Once the boy was done letting death saunter into the carriage, he jumped down onto the ground and pulled down a small set of stairs. Madame Maxime rose from her seat and beckoned us all forward. She stepped out of the carriage followed by my fellow victims. You may call them classmates if you wish.

I hung near the back and grabbed Gabrielle's hand. She looked at me questioningly. I gripped her hand a bit tighter and closed my eyes. I imagined a small flame growing larger and larger. As it did, a warmth washed over me that felt like someone pouring warm water over my head. Eventually the flame grew from a candle into a blaze that was capable of destroying a forest. When I opened my eyes, Gabrielle had a pleasant smile on her face and I felt at ease. The fire that burned in my mind had taken form in a thin permeable layer of warmth around us. Content in my concentration as it took my mind off of my anxiety momentarily, I pulled Gabrielle towards the door. I jumped down from the carriage and helped Gabrielle down the stairs.

The students were milling around behind Madame Maxime, staring up at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with awestruck looks. Looking up at the large castle, caught a glance of hundreds of windows and large looming towers. Hogwarts was one of the oldest castles in wizarding history and its architecture showed its age. There were dozens of styles of windows, towers connected to other towers and covered parapet walks going this way and that. It gave off an air of magnificence that had nothing to do with financial wealth, but of magical wealth. Begrudgingly, I will admit I was slightly impressed though I would never admit that to anyone.

Gabrielle and I stood near the back of our shivering class as our headmistress spoke to the physical form of my hate. I clenched my jaw as I heard his voice for the first time and focused the hate I was feeling into burning my mental fire even hotter. Once the fake pleasantries were exchanged, Madame Maxime gestured us towards the entrance to the school and we set off across the lawn. We were halfway up the staircase when I felt eyes on the back of my head. I knew without a doubt that Dumbledore had felt the elemental magic I was using but I knew that he couldn't see my face. Staying under his nosy gaze for the remainder of this school year was going to be slightly more difficult now.

We followed Madame Maxime into what was known as the Great Hall in all the books of Magical History I had ever read. There were dozens of candlesticks floating above four long tables that ended with a fifth table shorter than the rest. At this smaller table was a large golden throne that no doubt belonged to Dumbledore and I mused if he could fit his large ego on comfortably. I let the fire in my mind die down and released Gabrielle's hand. There were several fireplaces around the hall so there was little temperature difference. We sat at one of the tables as Madame Maxime left through a door at the end of the hall.

I continued to look around as Gabrielle chatted with Margaux. The ceiling of the Great Hall was enchanted to look like the night sky, which was currently cloudy with few stars visible. Even with the overcast, the sky looked... Magical. And yes. That is rather cheesy to say. You're welcome. On the walls were banners that showed the individual house crests and one large Hogwarts crest in the middle.

It was about ten minutes before the Durmstrang students stomped in with their furs and wool uniforms.

"Now why in the bloody hell couldn't we have those?" I muttered angrily. The Bulgarian students sat an end table with a silver snake on their banner.

"Oh Merlin Harry. Can you let the dress robes go please?" Margaux asked.

"Not until I burn them…"

Margaux and Gabrielle rolled their eyes at me. Regardless of how much I hated the dress robes I was wearing, they wouldn't keep me from feeling uneasy about the situation I was currently in. I was about to be in the room with the man who took everything from me and the brother who Mr. and Mrs. Fathead Potter thought was a good enough reason to abandon me as a baby. My hands felt clammy and there was a lump in my throat.

The Hogwarts students started to pour into the hall and took seats around us. I turned my gaze towards Gabrielle. She gave me an understanding smile that alleviated my unease slightly but not enough to keep me from planning an exit strategy in the event I ended up in Azkaban.

I was pulled from my thoughts as Gabrielle stood up abruptly and pulled me along with her. A few students around us giggled lightly but I ignored them. I was so stuck in my own thoughts I had not realized that everyone had arrived in the hall and the Hogwarts professors were taking their seats at the head table. I planted my gaze firmly on the back of Gabrielle's head until Madame Maxime had taken her seat and we were allowed to sit back down. Dumbledore filed in last after his professors and remained standing. On either side of him were two wizards I knew recognized as being employed by the British Ministry of Magic and having had the pleasure of seeing them in the forest at the World Cup the night the Dark Mark was cast – Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests," said Dumbledore, smiling at the foreign students and making me want to punch him. I stared at the golden plate in front of me and paced my breaths slower, swallowing the ever present lump in my throat. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

Margaux let out a small laugh and Gabrielle elbowed her in the ribs.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home."

The empty dishes on the tables filled with food instantly. There were a large variety of dishes, including a few French and what I could guess to be Bulgarian dishes. The students around us began to fill their plates with food and conversation broke out here and there. Ever the adventurer, I filled my cup with pumpkin juice and sipped slowly. Gabrielle was watching me as she filled her plate with bouillabaisse, which is a shellfish stew I have never been fond of but one that Gabrielle adores.

"You have to eat something Harry," she said.

"I was hoping to begin a hunger strike," I said sarcastically.

"You can't make this go away that easily you know," she replied, lowering her voice. "Worrying yourself to death isn't going to help matters."

Though she was right, I would never admit it to anyone other than you my dear readers.

Gabrielle busied herself with adding a few portions of food she knew I liked before turning to speak with Gabrielle. I picked at a piece of roasted beef half-heartedly while I glanced around the hall once more. The Durmstrang students had removed their furs and were wearing robes of a deep, blood red. They seemed even brighter against the black robes of the Hogwarts students. Across the hall, one table over and facing me, sat my brother, Henry.

My hands felt clammy again as I stared at him speaking to a boy with red hair. I wondered if he knew what happened to me or if he was lied to like the rest of the world about my death. I wondered if he was an Elemental like me, though I doubted that as the entire world would've known the second he displayed any sort of elemental magic. Everything Henry Potter did was to be on the front page of every newspaper and magazine or Merlin help the wizarding world as they died of boredom. Time seemed to have stopped as I looked at him and thought of all the things in life I had missed out on.

The thoughts left a bitter taste in my mouth so I reached for my pumpkin juice and drank deeply from the cup.

Staring at my oblivious twin, I wondered if he felt as empty as I did at times, having been abandoned and then lost my family once more. Thinking of the Flamels brought me deeper into a whirlwind of dark thoughts. If I ever had the chance to –

I was pulled out of my bitter though justified thoughts by a warm hand latching onto mine. I looked over to see Gabrielle peering into my eyes.

"Are you okay?" She asked, though she knew the answer. She always seemed to know what I was thinking. Damn Veelas…

"As long as I can keep you forever, I will always be okay." I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to me and kissing her forehead. I breathed in her scent deeply and tried to let go of my slight depression, relaxing ever so slightly. I glanced around, noticing that everyone had finished eating and the food had disappeared. I guess I really had been lost in my thoughts.

Dumbledore stood up once more as the tables had cleared of the empty dishes and dirty plates. There was a tension in the air so thick, I could feel it weighing down on me like wet clothes.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore said dramatically. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." There was a light applause around the hall with Bagman nodding at the students around the hall. Crouch neither smiled nor waved but sat very still in his seat. I began to see this was his normal, very stern behavior.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts," Dumbledore said. He motioned towards the door. "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

A dirty looking man who had been lurking in the shadows stepped forward carrying a large wooden chest encrusted with jewels. Students began whispering excitedly (stupidly) to each other, causing the man to hike his load up a little higher and upturn his nose like a farmer showing off his prized heifer. I could feel a faint pulse being emitted from the contents of the ancient chest which reluctantly spiked my interest. I knew that whatever resided in there was heavily laden with elemental magic. I could feel it pouring off the chest like fog slowly sinking to the floor. The man walked up the aisle between the long tables and had finally reached the end. He placed the chest on the table in front of Dumbledore carefully before turning to leave.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge," Dumbledore continued, placing one hand on the lid. "There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

The hall filled with silence (or emptied of sound, if we are being technical) and the fog-like magic I could feel began to resemble dread.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament; one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore removed his hand from the lid of the container, his other holding his wand. He tapped the casket three times with his wand, each time causing another pulse of magic to be emitted and my breath to catch in my throat. The lid creaked opening slowly, increasing the fog magic that was rolling off of the contents of the Goblet of Fire. A bright light was visible as Dumbledore pulled out a large, hand carved wooden cup. Inside the cup, was the source of the elemental magic I could feel: a dancing blue-white flame. The lid closed on the chest and Dumbledore placed the goblet on top.

I stared into this prehistoric flame, completely entranced by the power I saw. Everything else around me faded into nothingness and my vision around the edges blackened. The only thing that existed was the fire. I felt nothing but peace and knew nothing other than this fiery companion of mine.

An unseen force began pushing into my thoughts, distracting me from the flames. I pushed against this unknown presence while fighting to keep my trance with this rudimentary element.

_Harry._

I felt my name being said, rather than heard it. I snapped my attention to Dumbledore's face as the world around me came back into focus. I broke eye contact and immediately began clearing my mind of any thoughts. I knew he was the force I felt and concentrated on the mental defenses that Nick had taught me years ago to help with meditation. I stared the floor in front of the Goblet of Fire, angry at myself for being caught off guard and at Dumbledore for exposing me. I knew he wouldn't pursue the matter at this moment. He was smart enough to know how sensitive this secret was and what it could destroy if uncovered.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and sounded more cheerful than I would've liked. "Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete." I could feel Dumbledore's gaze upon me like a spot light. I sat still, unwilling to take his bait.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of sixteen will be able to cross this line." Angry whispers broke out among the seated students while I felt relieved for the distraction. Dumbledore raised his voice above the whispers until they quieted. "Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

I was on my feet the moment he uttered those words. I grabbed Gabrielle's hand and pulled her to her feet. She looked at me silently worried but followed me as I pulled her through the crowd of students shuffling out of the Great Hall. Indignant cries and curses followed in our wake but I didn't care. I pushed through the crowd until I found a gap and crashed through. Immediately on my left was the main entrance.

"Harry! Slow down! What's going on?" asked Gabrielle as we exited the castle into the cold night.

I ignored her question and pulled her along. She kept calling my name but the only thing on my mind was putting as much distance between Dumbledore and myself. We fled down the stairs and onto the grounds of Hogwarts. I didn't have a particular place in mind but I kept walking quickly. Suddenly, Gabrielle ripped her hand from mine.

"STOP HARRY!" I whipped around. "Just stop! Tell me what's wrong!"

"He knows Gabrielle! Dumbledore knows I'm here!" I stared at her beautifully shocked face before turning away from her and resuming my escape plan. I silently cursed myself for thinking my problems were going to be limited to a set of silk dress robes.

**A/N: Dialogue from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire has been borrowed for this chapter. Spare me your complaints. **


End file.
